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LIBRARY 

University  of 

California 

Irvine 


D 


MY  "LITTLE  BIT' 
MARIE  CORELLI 


MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 


BY 

MARIE  CORELLI,/^? 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  YOUNG  DIANA,"  "THE  LIFE  EVERLASTING," 

"INNOCENT,"  "ROMANCE  OF  TWO  WORLDS," 

"BARABBAS,"  ETC. 


NEW  X5JT  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1919, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


DEDICATED 

TO 
MY  FRIEND 

A.    R.    M.    L. 

AND  HIS  FELLOW-MEMBERS 
OP  THE  CARLTON  CLUB 


PREFACE 

THE  articles  in  this  book,  with  the  exception  of  the 
first  two,  were  all  written  during  the  war  at  the  request 
of  the  various  editors  by  whose  courtesy  they  are  now 
reproduced  in  volume  form.  Most  of  them,  notably 
those  which  appeared  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  were, 
by  my  own  desire,  gratuitous,  though  payment  for 
them  was  offered.  But,  being  unable  to  handle  sword 
or  gun,  I  was  glad  to  offer  the  free  service  of  my  pen 
whenever  such  service  was  desired,  or  considered 
useful,  just  as  I  would  have  been  glad,  had  I  been  a 
man,  to  fight  voluntarily  for  Great  Britain,  without 
any  thought  of  other  recompense  than  that  of  the 
personal  pride  and  joy  such  action  would  have  given 
me.  The  first  two  articles:  "Savage  Glory  "  and  "The 
Great  Unrest,"  were  published  some  considerable 
time  before  the  outbreak  of  war,  and  while  the  editor 
of  Nosh's  Magazine  was  generous  to  a  fault  in  his 
praise  of  "Savage  Glory."  he  was  so  doubtful  as  to  the 
accuracy  of  the  indictment  conveyed  in  "The  Great 
Unrest"  that  he  felt  himself  compelled  to  preface  it 
by  a  note,  stating  that  he,  or  rather  "we,"  could  not 
be  held  responsible  for  any  agreement  with  or  endorse- 
ment of  the  author's  ideas.  Headers  can  now  judge 
for  themlseves  whether  those  ideas  were  fairly  pro- 
phetic or  otherwise.  Naturally,  no  heed  was  paid  to 
them,  except  by  a  huge  silent  public,  the  press  appar- 
ently making  it  ?  rule  not  to  notice  in  any  one  paper 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

what  their  rivals  print  in  others,  unless  it  happens 
to  be  by  one  of  their  own  special  clique,  or  the  utter- 
ance of  a  Cabinet  Minister,  which  they  generally 
misquote.  But,  such  as  they  are,  these  various  contri- 
butions to  English  and  American  sections  of  journalism 
indicate  the  straight  and  loyal  road  my  pen  has  travelled 
during  the  wickedest  and  stupidest  war  that  ever 
devastated  the  world.  The  stupidity  of  it  was  even 
more  glaring  than  the  wickedness  of  it — especially 
in  the  case  of  Germany.  Germany  was  an  advancing 
and  prosperous  nation,  chiefly  through  the  industrial 
progress  of  her  hard-working  people,  and  her  "peaceful 
penetration"  was  conquering  every  quarter  of  commerce. 
She  has,  for  the  time  being,  ruined  everything  by  a 
blind  faith  in  and  following  of  her  scoundrels  of 
finance,  for  whom  the  Krupp  and  other  dividends  were 
not  sufficiently  high  or  secure;  the  work  of  years  has 
now  been  destroyed  and  every  gain  has  to  be  dis- 
counted as  loss,  though  there  is  not  the  slightest  doubt 
that  her  cleverness  and  cunning  will  enable  her  to 
mend  the  hole  in  her  wall  far  more  rapidly  than  our 
dilly-dally  statesmen  imagine.  For  the  immediate 
time,  her  degradation  and  ruin  involve  more  than  her 
own  position;  other  nations,  even  our  own,  are  deeply 
affected,  and,  like  ships  in  unsafe  anchorage,  sway 
from  their  moorings — all  are  tormented  by  a  spirit 
of  turbulence  which  will  not  let  them  rest,  and  men 
with  weak  brains  and  vacillating  purpose  are  playing 
with  the  destinies  of  peoples  in  a  wholly  unforseeing 
and  nerveless  way,  heedless  of  the  fact  that  there  are 
other  more  powerful  players  behind  them  who  are 
about  to  make  an  end  of  their  game  and  push  them 
far  away  from  the  goal.  In  what  I  nave  written, 


PEEFACE  ix 

however  slight  and  inadequate,  I  have  had  but  one 
aim  in  view:  to  hold  up  to  the  public  as  far  as  I  can 
or  may,  the  greatness  of  this  beloved  land  of  ours — 
its  splendid  ancient  history  and  tradition,  and  to 
resent,  as  much  as  a  mere  pen  can  do,  the  disloyal 
and  agitating  influences  which  seek  to  disrupt  unity  and 
belittle  the  achievements  of  the  noble  British  people. 
Of  the  wicked  waste  of  that  people's  money  by  the 
most  obtuse  Government  methods,  and  the  iniquitous 
premium  on  idleness  foolishly  given  in  the  "Unemploy- 
ment dole,"  I  could  say  much,  notwithstanding  that 
I  am  told  it  is  "a  sop  to  check  Bolshevism."  One  does 
not  offer  a  sop  to  a  mad  bull — one  kills  it.  And  it  is 
not  credible  that  the  sane,  sound  men  of  Great  Britain, 
with  an  Empire  of  glorious  renown  at  their  backs, 
will  ally  themselves  with  Red  Riot  which  means  ruin 
to  themselves  as  well  as  to  its  instigators.  True  it 
is  that  Stupidity  is  the  present  order  of  the  day  among 
our  blind  leaders  of  the  blind — that  very  Stupidity 
which  Voltaire  affirmed  to  be  the  only  crime — and  there 
is  little  else  for  us  to  do  in  our  extremity  but  "wait 
and  see"  whether  Stupidity  will  prove  more  than  a 
blundering  guide  to  "where  the  rainbow  ends." 


CONTENTS 

.  PAGE 

ENGLAND,  1918  i 15 

SAVAGE  GLORY 16 

FOR  BELGIUM! 30 

THE  GREAT  UNREST 31 

THE  WHIRLWIND 46 

THE  KAISER'S  HARVEST  OF  DEATH 53 

THIS  AMAZING  WAR 61 

"ALL  WE  LIKE  SHEEP" 67 

WANTED — MORE  WOMEN! 73 

THE  QUALITY  OF  MERCY 79 

STARVING  BELGIUM 83 

"THE  TIME  OF  OUR  LIVES" 92 

THE  WORLD'S  GREATEST  NEED 99 

HAS  CHRISTIANITY  FAILED? 114 

SNOOKS'S  OPINION 116 

SEA  POWER,  1805-1918 122 

THE  SPLENDID  SERVICE  OF  THE  SEA 124 

THE  LILIES  OF  FRANCE 131 

"WHOSO  SHALL  RECEIVE  ONE  SUCH  LITTLE  CHILD!"  .  133 

APPEAL  FOR  THE  FRENCH  RED  CROSS 139 

GLORY  OF  THE  WORCESTERS 145 

EYES  OF  THE  SEA 156 

Is  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND? 171 

ri 


xii  CONTENTS 


THE  WORLD  IN  TEARS 

GOD  AND  THE  WAR 

TRIUMPH  OF  WOMANHOOD      .... 

IN  PRAISE  OP  ENEMIES 

RECRUITING  SPEECH 

SPLENDID  CANADA 

SHELLS;  AND  OTHER  SHELLS       .     .     . 

DARKNESS  AND  LIGHT 

SWEEPING  THE  COUNTRY 

To  SAVE  LIFE  OR  DESTROY  IT?      .     . 

THE  WAR  LOAN 

FOOD  PRODUCTION 

OUR  FORTUNATE  "RESTRICTIONS"    .     . 

"His  PAINFUL  DUTY" 

THE  POTATO  "SCREAM" 

"HISTORY  REPEATS  ITSELF"       .     .     . 

"SHODDY  CHIVALRY" 

"HINDENBURG'S  EYE!" 

"HOARDING" 

THREE  HUNDRED  YEARS  OF  FAME.   .     . 
SHAKESPEARE'S  WAR  BIRTHDAY  IN  1917 

"DON'T  TRAVEL" . 

"TE  DEUM  LAUDAMUS" 

THE  WOMEN'S  VOTE 

A  "HAPPY  THOUGHTS"  DAY      .     .     . 
WHY  DID  I ? 

IN  THE  HUSH  OF  THE  DAWN 


MY  "LITTLE  BIT' 


MY    "LITTLE    BIT" 


LIFT  up  thine  eyes,  Queen  Warrior  of  the  world  I 
Stand,  fearlessr-footed,  on  Time's  shifting  verge 
And  watch  thine  everlasting  Dawn  emerge 
From  clouds  that  hreak  and  boom  in  thunderous  War ! 
Lo,  how  thy  broad  East  reddens  to  thy  West, 
The  while  thy  thousand-victoried  flag,  unfurl'd, 
Waves  to  thy  North  and  South,  in  one  royal  fold 
Of  tent-like  shelter  for  an  Empire's  rest; 
O  Queen,  sword-girded,  helmeted  in  gold, 
Strong  Conqueror  of  all  thy  many  foes, 
Look  from  thy  rocky  heights,  and  see  afar 
The  coming  Future  menacing  the  Past 
With  clamour  and  wild  change  of  present  things, 
Kingdoms  down-shaken  with  the  fall  of  kings; 
But  fear  not  Thou!     Thou'rt  still  the  first  and  last 
Imperial  wearer  of  the  deathless  Rose — 
Crown'd  with  the  sunlight,  girdled  with  the  sea, 
Mother  of  mightiest  nations  yet  to  bel 

L15 


SAVAGE  GLOEY 

AN  APPEAL   AGAINST   WAR 

(This  article  was  written  for  "Nash's  Magazine"  in  February, 
1913,  without  any  other  than  instinctive  premonition  of  the  com- 
ing Great  War.) 

EDITORIAL  NOTE. — Marie  Corelli's  remarkable  article  should,  be 
read  by  every  man  and  woman  at  all  mindful  of  the  welfare  of 
their  fellow-sojourners  on  this  little  swinging  ball  of  ours,  which 
we  call  the  earth.  This  contribution  is  far  and  away  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  pieces  of  writing  Miss  Corelli  has  ever  achieved; 
it  is  thought-compelling  and  in  the  larger  sense  inspirational;  it 
is  wellnigh  epoch-maJcing  in  its  new  view,  its  virile  logic,  its  sane 
and  forceful  plea  for  the  peace  of  the  world — peace  on  a  basis  of 
common  sense,  broad  humanity,  and  the  honour  of  nations. 

CIVILISATION  is  a  great  Word.  It  reads  well — it  is 
used  everywhere — it  bears  itself  proudly  in  the  language. 
It  is  a  big  mouthful  of  arrogance  and  self-sufficiency. 
The  very  sound  of  it  natters  our  vanity  and  testifies  to 
the  good  opinion  we  have  of  ourselves.  We  boast  of 
"Civilisation"  as  if  we  were  really  civilised — just  as 
we  talk  of  "Christianity"  as  if  we  were  really  Chris- 
tians. Yet  it  is  all  the  veriest  game  of  make-believe, 
for  we  are  mere  Savages  still.  Savages  in  "the  lust 
of  the  eye  and  pride  of  life" — savages  in  our  national 
prejudices  and  animosities,  our  jealousies,  our  greed  and 
malice,  and  savages  in  our  relentless  efforts  to  over- 
reach or  pull  down  each  other  in  social  and  business 
relations.  If  any  confirmation  of  such  a  statement  be 

16 


SAVAGE  GLORY  17 

needed  it  is  found  in  the  fact  that  War  is  still  permitted 
to  exist.  WAK  is  unquestionably  the  thrust  and  blow 
of  untamed  Savagery  in  the  face  of  Civilisation.  !No 
special  pleading  can  make  it  anything  else.  We  may 
if  we  like  call  it  "Patriotism"  in  our  perpetual  life- 
comedy  or  tragedy  of  feigning,  but  in  sane  moments 
we  must  surely  realise  that  we  are  wilfully  deceiving 
ourselves.  Patriotism  is  understood  to  be  that  virtue 
which  consists  in  serving  one's  country;  but  in  what 
way  is  this  "Patria"  or  country  served  by  slaying  its 
able-bodied  men  in  thousands? — the  very  men  whose 
peaceful  and  progressive  toil  makes  the  country  worth 
living  in  ?  Can  any  adequate  answer  be  given  to  this 
question?  Is  "Honour"  justly  due  to  the  heads  of 
Government  who,  themselves  safely  out  of  the  fray, 
send  such  men  like  sheep  to  the  shambles — men  innocent 
of  all  personal  or  national  offence,  but  who  in  their 
fine  obedience  to  duty  and  the  preconceived  idea  of 
conquest  which  has  its  root  in  old  barbaric  periods, 
consent  to  be  shot  down  under  the  murderous  fire  of 
unseen  guns  miles  away,  simply  because  their  rulers 
have  so  ordained  it  ?  Is  it  "civilised"  to  spread  ruin 
and  devastation  through  the  land? — to  leave  homes 
desolate  ? — and  to  create  a  wretched  surplus  population 
of  widows  and  orphans  for  no  other  reason  than  that 
one  nation  refuses  to  comply  with  what  is  demanded 
of  it  by  the  other  ?  Is  it  not  possible  to  deal  with  even 
a  difficult  and  refractory  subject  of  quarrel  in  the  way 
of  reason  and  argument,  brought  to  bear  upon  it  by 
the  soberly  judging  powers  of  all  nations?  And  if 
reason  and  argument  should  fail,  then,  instead  of 
consigning  troops  of  blameless  men  to  the  scientific 
but  cruelly  treacherous  methods  of  modern  warfare, 


18  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

would  it  not  be  more  normal  and  humane  simply  to 
— Stop  Supplies? 

Here  we  touch  a  vital  centre  of  the  question.  "No 
nation  can  go  to  war  without  Money.  In  most  cases 
a  very  great  deal  of  this  same  money  is  required.  Who 
provides  it  ?  The  nation  itself  ?  One  may  doubt 
whether  any  nation  could  raise  sufficient  funds  to 
carry  on  a  serious  war  for  any  length  of  time  without 
borrowing.  Supposing  this  to  be  the  case,  what 
financial  force  behind  the  scenes  so  obligingly  lends 
the  cash  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  schemes  of 
wholesale  murder?  Wherever  such  cash  is  obtained 
we  know  it  must  be  weighted  with  an  exorbitant  rate 
of  interest,  so  that  the  price  of  human  blood  fills  the 
pockets  of  the  lenders  with  a  certain  guaranteed  over- 
flow. To  stop  War,  therefore,  it  should  be  made 
impossible  to  borrow  the  sums  required  for  warfare; 
and  any  loan  started  with  the  object  of  War  in  view, 
whether  suggested  or  avowed,  should  be  considered 
by  a  National  Agreement  of  United  Powers  illegal 
and  even  criminal,  as  conspiring  against  the  peace 
and  progress  of  the  world.  If,  by  what  is  called 
diplomacy  or  political  subterfuge,  this  law  were  cheated, 
and  vast  sums  were  loaned  ostensibly  for  other  purposes 
than  War,  and  it  could  afterwards  be  proved  that 
War  had  nevertheless  been,  secretly  and  all  along,  the 
actual  purpose  of  such  loans,  then  the  lenders  should 
be  compelled  to  forfeit  all  claims  to  repayment.  For 
talk  fine  sentiment  and  pious  platitudes  as  we  will, 
the  brutal  truth  is  that  no  war  can  be  carried  on  without 
money — money  fully  guaranteed — and  if  we  would 
strike  at  the  root  of  the  evil,  then  these  guaranteed 
supplies  must  be  cut  off. 


SAVAGE  GLORY  19 

A  well-known  journalist  who,  through  his  birth 
and  family  connections,  may  be  presumed  to  have  more 
than  common  knowledge  of  the  various  financial  games 
of  chess  played  by  the  "Chancelleries"  of  Europe,  is  re- 
sponsible for  the  statement  that  "War  is  popular." 
This  is  one  of  those  brisk  surface  sayings  that  shine 
with  apparent  candour,  like  the  sparkle  of  light  in  the 
ice  on  a  puddle,  but  which  have  no  more  depth  than 
the  puddle  itself.  War  is  temporarily  "popular" — 
so  long  as  it  is  confined  to  its  own  pomp  and  panoply 
— its  martial  music,  its  flying  banners,  its  glittering 
array  of  armed  men — its  marching  and  countermarch- 
ing— its  sensation  and  "show,"  in  fact — sensation  and 
show  which  appeal  to  the  multitude  who  are  not  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  disease  and  death  of  its  darker 
side.  The  elemental  passions  of  a  mob  can  be  roused 
as  easily  by  the  "savage"  beating  of  a  tom-tom  as  by 
the  "civilised"  roll  of  the  drum,  or  by  the  fussy  cackling 
of  an  excitable  Hen-Press.  That  Hen  nowadays  is 
always  laying  eggs  of  a  curiously  abnormal  nature,  in 
fact  so  surprising  is  its  daily  product  that  the  maternal 
bird  is  for  ever  getting  off  the  nest  to  look  at  results, 
with  an  evident  expectation  that  mere  chicks  may  turn 
out  to  be  swans,  though,  as  a  rule,  they  are  generally 
geese.  To  judge  from  the  incessant  cackle  and  scream, 
one  would  imagine  them  responsible  for  European  opin- 
ion, and  occupied  in  raising  "nation  against  nation," 
with  "men's  hearts  failing  them  for  fear,"  in  startling 
confirmation  of  the  New  Testament  prophecy,  and  some 
of  us  are  disposed  to  ask:  Why  are  sinister  and  dis- 
turbing suggestions  constantly  thrown  out  by  the  Press 
as  baits  to  catch  the  always  restless,  dissatisfied  and 
uneasy  minds  of  the  populace?  Is  Finance  the  fisher- 


20  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

man  behind  the  tree,  angling  with  a  long  line  and  a 
devil's  hook  at  the  end  of  it  ?  £To  one  with  a  grain  of 
common  sense  would  call  it  Patriotism!  Our  men  of 
science,  our  pathologists  and  physicians  have  of  late 
years  teen  studying  to  some  purpose  the  mysterious 
power  of  "Suggestion" — and  if  we  have  sufficient  intel- 
ligence to  understand  the  discovered  facts  which  have 
rewarded  their  researches  we  shall  acknowledge  that 
ideas,  started  and  persistently  fostered  in  the  minds 
of  the  million  by  constant  reiteration,  frequently 
develop  into  actions.  With  how  much  care  and 
earnestness  therefore  should  we  see  to  it  th,at  the 
suggestions  impressed  on  the  brains  of  Nations  are 
sane,  pure  and  noble,  moving  all  progress  forward, 
with  that  firm  gentleness  which  is  the  truest  strength, 
into  the  ways  of  wisdom  and  of  peace ! 

As  "civilised"  peoples  we  continue  to  exhibit  the 
strangest  barbaric  inconsistency  in  our  manners  and 
methods  of  justice.  If  one  man  or  woman  is  murdered 
in  our  midst  our  laws  are  set  into  instant  operation 
to  find  the  murderer,  and  if  the  crime  is  brought  home 
to  him  he  is  sentenced  to  death.  But  in  War  thousands 
are  murdered  at  the  mere  signal  of  "brave"  com- 
manders, and  instead  of  the  wrath  and  horror  aroused 
by  the  slaying  of  a  single  life,  an  uproar  of  jubilation 
and  triumph  breaks  out  over  the  poor  festering  corpses 
that  strew  the  field  of  so-called  "glorious  victory." 
The  "civilised"  State  protests  against  the  murder  of 
one  individual,  but  looks  upon  the  ghastly  holocaust 
of  slaughtered  lives  in  battle  as  something  almost 
noble  and  inspiring!  Is  this  reasonable?  Is  it  re- 
concilable with  sane  judgment?  Is  it  any  proof  that 
our  "Education"  is  of  real  worth? — or  does  it  not 


SAVAGE  GLORY  21 

rather  testify  to  the  amazing  fact  that  in  our  greed 
of  possession,  our  thirst  of  conquest,  and  our  curious 
conceptions  of  religion  and  humanity,  we  have  pro- 
gressed scarcely  a  step  ahead  of  our  "barbarian"  ancesr 
tors  and  their  "savage"  customs ! 

"Alas,  for  men  that  they  should  be  so  blind  f 
That  they  should  laud  the  scourges  of  their 

kind — 

Call  each  man  glorious  who  has  led  a  host 
And  him  most  glorious  who  has  murdered 

most !" 

It  is  said  by  certain  special  pleaders  that  War  is 
a  Necessity.  We  are  referred  for  verification  of  this 
to  the  world  of  nature,  where  it  would  certainly  seem 
that  various  tribes  of  animals  and  insects  do  make 
war  upon  each  other.  These  wars,  however,  occur 
much  more  frequently  among  the  low  grades  of  nature- 
life  than  the  high.  One  may  doubt  whether  eagles 
as  a  tribe  make  war  upon  eagles,  lions  upon  lions, 
and  so  forth.  That  every  animal  should  fight  or  work 
individually  for  food  is  the  natural  law — the  spirit 
of  prey  is  one  from  which  Man  himself  is  never  exempt. 
But  has  any  one  ever  heard  of  several  thousand  lions 
or  bears  taking  up  a  stand  against  each  other  and 
slaying  each  other  wholesale  for  a  disputed  portion 
of  territory?  Ants  and  emmets  make  continual  war 
among  themselves,  but  "Civilisation"  is  supposed  to 
have  set  Man  a  trifle  higher  than  the  ant  or  emmet; 
he  is  even  believed  to  be  superior  in  mental  capacity 
to  the  eagle  or  the  lion.  He  is  accredited  with  fine 
faculties  of  reason,  and  is  more  or  less  conscious  of 


high  spiritual  impulses — and  in  Christian  countries 
he  professes  a  humane  creed,  and  assumes  to  teach 
the  ethics  of  a  divine  moral  code.  During  the  far-off 
periods  of  his  evolution  from  embryonic  animalism 
towards  the  higher  potentialities  of  his  being,  he  was 
doubtless  forced  to  fight  his  way  against  such  opposing 
obstacles  as  threatened  to  stay  or  overwhelm  him  in 
his  progress,  but  now — now  when  he  stands,  or  thinks 
he  stands,  on  a  height  of  intellectual  power  and  attain- 
ment which  enables  him  to  discard  old  barbarisms, 
surely  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  control  the 
lurking  remains  of  his  original  savagery!  War  may 
be,  as  the  before-quoted  journalist  declares,  "popular," 
but  it  might  be  as  well,  considering  the  ruin  and  misery 
which  follow  in  its  train,  to  inquire  into  the  inward 
working  of  its  asserted  "popularity,"  apart  from  its 
deceptive  outward  display. 

First  then,  as  already  hinted,  there  are  floaters  of 
a  War  Loan.  With  them  it  is  undoubtedly  "popular," 
for  it  opens  several  channels  for  the  rapid  making 
of  money.  Roughly  speaking,  most  of  the  money  ad- 
vanced at  interest  for  all  important  purposes  comes 
from  the  Jews.  All  nations  are  more  or  less  under  the 
thumb  of  Israel,  disguise  it  as  we  will,  or  may.  No 
great  scheme,  either  in  peace  or  war,  can  be  started 
without  Jewish  gold  and  Jewish  support.  The  Jews 
are  the  cleverest  commercial  people  on  the  globe; 
they  are  also  charitable  and  benevolent  to  a  degree 
that  often  shames  Christianity.  They  could,  as  a 
race,  do  much  to  stop  War  in  its  very  beginnings  if 
they  once  unanimously  and  resolutely  decided  on 
such  a  course  of  action.  But  it  is  not  likely  that  they 
will  ever  pronounce  their  "veto" ;  the  idea  would  be  too 


SAVAGE  GLORY  23 

Utopian  and  unbusinesslike.  Therefore,  as  things 
exist,  it  is  scarcely  unkind  to  say,  that  with  their  race 
all  over  the  world  War  is  "popular."  Its  commence- 
ment, progress,  and  continuance  are  in  their  hands. 
And  they  will,  from  a  purely  commercial  point  of 
view,  continue  to  lend  cash  for  the  furtherance  and 
encouragement  of  National  Savagery,  so  long  as 
National  Savagery  exists,  and  is  willing  to  borrow 
money  at  a  high  rate  of  interest.  For  with  them  the 
God  of  Israel  is  still  a  God  of  Battles. 

Secondly,  War  is  "popular"  with  the  Press.  Unctuous 
newspaper  articles  lamenting  the  "horror"  of  War, 
and  disclaiming  all  responsibility  for  fermenting  and 
agitating  the  motives  of  quarrel,  are  only  so  much 
meaningless  "copy."  Useful  "copy,"  too,  because  it 
conveys  to  the  ingenuous  and  child-like  mind  of  the 
man  in  the  street  that  the  intelligent  editors  and 
journalists  who  "manage"  his  news  for  him  are  really 
peace-loving,  unselfish  folk,  and  pious  withal.  Whereas 
the  very  suggestion  of  War  is  a  paying  "sensation" 
for  press-men ;  it  gives  plenty  of  opening  for  big  "head- 
lines" and  attractive  "posters,"  which  help  to  sell  their 
penny  or  halfpenny  sheets  to  the  best  advantage. 
Whatever  rumour  is  abroad,  whatever  whisper  of  a 
"conference  of  the  Powers"  flies  on  the  wind,  the  Press 
makes  more  than  the  most  of  both  rumour  and  whisper 
— and  if  it  can  only  work  up  a  national  "Scare"  it  is  as 
happy  as  a  monkey  with  a  banana.  Such  a  Press  as 
that  of  America  and  Great  Britain  could  not  exist 
without  "sensation."  Even  in  "piping  times  of  peace" 
it  resorts  to  the  most  ludicrous  methods  of  producing 
mild  excitements,  such  as  "Sweet  Pea"  or  "Giant 
Carnation"  or  "Photographic"  competitions,  or  a 


24  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

"Symposium"  as  to  whether  milk  or  fish  diet  is  best 
for  the  brain.  A  murder  is  life  to  it ! — while  the  useful, 
brilliant,  beautiful  or  noble  work  done  in  Art  or  Litera- 
ture gets  scarcely  a  helpful  mention.  How  often  we 
see  great  space  given  to  the  description  of  a  public 
dancer! — her  jewels,  her  dresses,  her  opinions! 
— while  a  fine  poem  or  picture  is  dismissed  in  a  flippant 
paragraph.  The  reason  of  this  is  obvious:  it  is  that 
many  of  the  persons  who  assist  in  the  work  of  daily 
journalism  are  only  educated  up  to  the  public  dancer 
standard — the  poem  or  the  picture  is  lost  on  the 
limited  area  of  their  abilities.  And  it  may  really  be 
said  again  without  either  prejudice  or  unkindness 
that  so  far  as  the  press  is  concerned  War  is  "popular," 
because  it  provides  just  that  particular  "sensation" 
which  in  its  turn  commands  sales.  Therefore  if  press- 
men, directly  or  indirectly,  do  foster  national  bitter- 
ness or  help  to  stir  up  strife,  we  must  remember  that 
they  are  only  serving  their  own  interests,  and  that 
blame  is  chiefly  due  to  ourselves  if  we  give  credence 
to  their  often  exaggerated  statements.  Bismarck  is 
reported  to  have  said  on  one  occasion,  "The  windows 
which  our  Press  breaks  we  shall  have  to  pay  for!" 
This  is  true  enough.  Indeed,  it  is  just  possible  that 
if  there  were  no  Press  at  all  for  a  few  years  many 
dissensions  would  die  out,  and  many  unfortunate  hap- 
penings would  never  happen! 

But  setting  aside  the  two  chief  forces  behind  the 
scenes,  Usury  and  the  Press,  with  all  other  com- 
mercially concerned  parties  in  the  quarrels  of  nations, 
who  can  or  who  dare  say  that  War  is  "popular"  ?  Let 
wives  and  children  answer !  Let  us  try  to  understand 
what  we  ourselves  mean  by  our  conflicting  theories 


SAVAGE  GLORY  25 

and  arguments — we  who  make  such  ado  about  a 
"declining  birth-rate,"  and  fall  into  hysterical  raptures 
over  a  family  of  "soldier  sons" !  Let  us  realise  clearly 
that  the  slaughter  of  able-bodied  men  materially  as- 
sists towards  the  "declining  birth-rate,"  and  that  where 
there  are  "soldier  sons"  they  have  been  brought  into 
the  world  apparently  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
be  mangled  out  of  it!  This  is  War!  Glorious 
War !  Is  it  sane  ?  Is  it  truly  "glorious"  to  shoot  down 
thousands  of  human  beings  who  have  committed  no 
fault  of  their  own,  but  are  simply  commanded  by 
their  Governments  to  serve  as  marks  for  the  bullets 
of  an  enemy  who  might  never  have  been  an  enemy 
at  all  but  for  mischief  arising  out  of  idle  and  often 
erroneous  report,  based  on  what  is  perhaps  only  a  tem- 
porary and  trivial  misunderstanding?  The  best  of 
friends  are  sometimes  parted  by  the  stupid  gossip  of 
stupid  persons  who,  envious  of  happiness  and  grudg- 
ing it  to  those  who  possess  it,  never  rest  till  some- 
thing has  been  done  to  undermine  and  destroy  it. 
In  the  same  way  nations  are  set  against  each  other 
by  some  persistently  irritating  and  ill-founded  ru- 
mour— some  difference  of  opinion,  which,  if  taken  in 
hand  reasonably  and  at  once,  could  be  satisfactorily 
settled,  provided  there  be  not  too  much  talk,  "red 
tape,"  and  officialism  employed  for  the  purpose  of  cre- 
ating general  vacillation  and  muddle.  The  con- 
ventional "ifs"  and  "buts"  exchanged  among  the 
Powers  may  be  looked  upon  with  considerable  doubt 
and  foreboding  under  certain  circumstances — an  over- 
flow of  fine  words  not  unfrequently  means  an  outbreak 
of  treacherous  deeds. 

Unhappily,  and  in  flat  contradiction  to  that  "hu- 


26  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

mane"  spirit,  which  we  so  frequently  profess,  treachery 
strikes  the  dominant  note  in  modern  warfare,  and  this 
is  one  of  the  chief  reasons  why  War  should  no  longer 
be  permitted.  The  new  long-range  quick-firing  gun 
is  as  dastardly  as  it  is  powerful,  for  surely  to  shoot 
down  men  miles  away  who  cannot  see  their  enemies 
is  as  reprehensible  and  cowardly  as  to  stab  a  man  in 
the  back  unawares.  Another  instrument  of  treachery 
is  the  submarine — a  truly  devilish  invention  devised 
for  the  avowed  object  of  destroying  war-vessels  by 
murderous  action  from  the  hidden  depths  of  the  sea. 
No  one  ever  seems  to  pause  and  consider  what  an 
amount  of  fiendish  cunning  in  the  mind  of  man  has 
evolved  the  construction  of  this  deadly  engine  of  war- 
fare— still  less  does  the  question  ever  appear  to 
suggest  itself  as  to  whether  such  a  perfidious  way  of 
compassing  slaughter  is  humane  (we  will  not  shame 
the  word  "Christian")  or  truly  "civilised."  If  we  re- 
fer back  to  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  the  "dark  ages" 
or  ages  of  barbarism,  we  read  much  concerning 
"instruments  of  torture,"  such  as  the  rack,  the  thumb- 
screw, and  other  inventions  brutally  designed  by  man 
to  injure  his  fellow-man,  but  these  things  for  the  most 
part  avowed  their  murderous  intention  in  open  day- 
light— the  doomed  creatures  knew  what  they  had  to 
expect  and  prepared  to  die  accordingly.  But  modern 
science  has  sharpened  our  wits  to  a  more  merciless 
edge — we  are  cunning  enough  to  hide  ourselves  and 
our  instruments  of  death  from  our  intended  victims 
after  the  fashion  of  assassins  lurking  in  ambush — 
therefore  by  the  very  law  of  compensation  it  is  scarcely 
to  be  wondered  at  that  we  are  sometimes  "hoist  with 
our  own  petard,"  of  which  the  many  appalling  sub- 


SAVAGE  GLOKY  27 

marine  fatalities  are  proof  and  warning.  And  now, 
not  satisfied  with  attack  from  the  secret  depths  of 
the  ocean,  Zeppelins  and  aeroplanes  shower  bombs 
upon  open  towns  and  innocent  civilians,  so  that  even 
the  hitherto  neutral  skies  will  be  made  spaces  of  van- 
tage for  pitiless  assault.  All  these  "civilised"  in- 
ventions for  the  practice  of  barbarity  ought  to  give 
so-called  "Christian"  empires  food  for  serious  thought 
— yet,  strange  to  say,  it  would  seem  that  every  new 
and  more  murderous  weapon  for  warfare  is  hailed 
with  columns  of  praise  in  the  press,  and  such  general 
acclamation  as  may  truly  be  called  "savage" — as  no 
"civilised"  community  educated  according  to  all  that 
we  boast  of  in  our  advanced  state  of  progress,  could 
or  would  rejoice  over  the  construction  of  mere  killing- 
machines  for  the  slaughter  of  their  fellow-creatures! 
Therefore,  it  may  be  asked:  Are  we  truly  "civilised" 
or  is  it  all  a  Sham?  Are  we  really  humane? — or  as 
bloodthirsty  as  when,  in  our  aboriginal  savagery,  we 
cracked  the  skulls  of  our  enemies  open  with  flint  axes  ? 
The  continued  existence  of  War  is,  in  the  face  of 
all  faith  and  feeling,  a  shame  to  the  world!  So  long 
as  nations  are  slaves  to  the  barbarous  idea  that  Blood 
and  Carnage  alone  can  keep  them  in  their  places  as 
authoritative  forces  for  the  higher  progress  and  welfare 
of  Humanity,  so  long  will  Civilisation  be  more  or  less 
a  farce.  No  one  denies  the  self-sacrifice,  the  endurance, 
the  patience,  and  the  courage  which  makes  men  military 
heroes — the  pity  of  it  all  is  that  such  splendid  quali- 
ties of  character  should  be  wasted  on  the  mere  con- 
summation of  slaughter  and  conquest.  What  good 
to  the  world  has  ever  come  out  of  Napoleon's  many 
massacres  ?  Looking  down  upon  the  sarcophagus  con- 


28  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

taining  that  Imperial  Murderer's  ashes  in  the  gor- 
geous tomb  consecrated  to  his  memory  in  Paris,  one 
wonders  sadly  why  he  was  ever  permited  to  live.  We 
may  with  the  great  poet  Byron  say: — 

"To  think  that  God's  fair  earth  hath  been 
The  footstool  of  a  thing  so  mean !" 

If  War  is  still  to  confirm  us  and  other  nations  as 
Savages,  we  must  behave  accordingly.  We  must  train 
our  men  and  youths  to  kill,  and  to  use  the  newest 
and  surest  weapons  for  killing.  When  we  are  offered 
Dreadnoughts,  we  accept  them  with  salvos  of  rejoic- 
ing and  thanksgiving.  Yet  without  War  these 
Dreadnoughts  will,  in  ten  years'  time  from  the  date  of 
their  completion,  be  useless,  and  the  millions  they 
cost  will  be  sunk  into  waste  material.  Must  we  have 
continuous  War,  then  ? — just  for  the  sake  of  employing 
Dreadnoughts — and  proving  to  our  own  satisfaction 
that  we  can  slaughter  as  many  innocent  thousands 
as  other  Savages  if  we  like?  Why  should  any  cause 
arise  for  the  visitation  of  such  a  scourge  upon  us  or 
any  nation!  If  we  have  foes  who  show  a  threatening 
front  we  are  naturally  bound  to  be  on  the  defensive 
-—and  we  should  be  prepared  to  guard  our  kingdom 
and  coast  from  Savages  more  savage  than  our- 
selves. But  when  we  can  get  rid  of  our  Savagery 
we  shall  lay  down  our  arms.  We  shall  realise 
that  Civilisation  means  Unity;  Unity  in  all  high 
purpose  and  progress  towards  the  betterment  of 
mankind. 

"Sheathed  be  the  sword  for  ever — let  the  drum 
Be  schoolboy's  pastime — let  your  battles  cease ! 


SAVAGE  GLOKY  29 

And  be  the  camion's  voice  for  ever  dumb 
Except  to  celebrate  the  joys  of  Peace! 
Are  ye  not  brothers  ? — God,  whom  we  revere, 
Is  he  not  Father  of  all  climes  and  lands  ? 
Form  an  Alliance  holy  and  sincere 
And  join  your  hands!" 

Surely  it  is  not  too  much  to  hope  for  this — to  pray 
for  this! — if  our  Faith  means  anything  more  than 
mere  lip-service  and  false  show ! 


80  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 


FOR  BELGIUM! 

THE  PRAYER  OF  THE  ALLIES 
(Written  for  "King  Albert's  Book") 

"What  shall  we  do  for  our  Sister  in  the  day  when  she  shall  be 

spoken  of? 
If  she  be  a  wall,  we  will  build  upon  her  a  palace  of  silver." 

Song  of  Solomon. 

Maker  of  Heaven  and  Earth, 

Thou,  who  hast  given  birth 
To  moving  millions  of  pre-destined  spheres, 

Thou,  whose  resistless  might 

Resolves  the  Wrong  to  Right 
Missing  no  moment  of  the  measured  years — 

Behold,  we  come  to  Thee! 
We  lift  our  swords,  unsheath'd,  towards  Thy  throne — 

Look  down  on  us,  and  see 
Our  Sister-Nation,  ruined  and  undone! 
Martyred  for  nobleness,  for  truth  and  trust; 
Help  us,  O  God,  to  raise  her  from  the  dust ! 

Be  Thou  our  witness,  Lord! 

We  swear  with  one  accord 
Swift  retribution  on  her  treacherous  foel 

Her  bitter  wrong  is  ours 

And  heaven's  full-armed  powers 
Shall  hurl  her  murderer  to  his  overthrow ! 

Upon  her  broken  wall 
A  silver  palace  of  sweet  peace  shall  rise 

At  that  high  Festival 

When  Victory's  signal  flashes  through  the  skies — 
But — until  then ! — welcome  the  fiercest  fray ! 
We  fight  for  Freedom !     God,  give  us  "The  Day"  I 


THE  GREAT  UNTREST 

(This  article  was  written  for  "Hash's  Magazine"  two  years 
before  the  War,  and  was  on  its  appearance  prefaced  by  the  follow- 
ing Editor's  Note.) 

EDITOR'S  NOTE. — While  "Nosh's  Magazine"  cheerfully  presents 
the  following  very  radical  and  profoundly  interesting  article  from 
the  brilliant  pen  of  Miss  Marie  Corelli,  this  Magazine  should  not 
in  any  sense  be  held  accountable  for  either  the  Author's  views  or 
her  expression  of  them*. 

"YE  hypocrites!  Ye  can  discern  the  face  of  the  sky 
and  of  the  earth,  but  how  is  it  that  ye  do  not  discern 
this  time?" 

Such  was  the  question  put  to  the  people  by  the 
Founder  of  the  Christian  Faith  two  thousand  years 
ago — a  question  not  yet  answered.  Lack  of  discern- 
ment is  still  as  much  as  ever  one  of  humanity's  chief 
attributes,  or  is  it  perhaps  less  a  lack  of  discernment 
than  an  unwillingness  to  discern?  "Ye  hypocrites!" 
said  the  Christ.  Is  it  not,  after  all,  sheer  hypocrisy 
which,  in  the  form  of  social  convention,  does  so  obsess 
Man  that,  though  conscious  of  approaching  storm, 
he  prefers  to  bury  his  head,  ostrich-like,  in  a  sand- 
heap  of  his  own  delusions  in  order  that  he  may  be  as 
blind  and  as  deaf  as  possible  to  the  lurid  glare  and  wild 
uproar  of  coming  disaster?  He  instinctively  knows 
disaster  is  imminent — even  at  his  very  doors — and 
that  it  will  presently  swoop  relentlessly  down  upon 
him,  perhaps  tossing  him  with  other  fragments  of 

31 


32  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

creation  into  a  chaos  from  which  he  shall  scarcely 
emerge  with  a  sound  skin;  yet  knowing,  he  pretends 
not  to  know,  and  plays  the  fool  with  himself  and 
destiny ! 

To-day,  now,  at  this  very  moment,  all  over  the 
civilised  world,  this  terrible  game  of  "playing  the 
fool"  is  going  on  with  reckless  speed  and  continuity. 
I  use  the  word  "terrible"  advisedly,  for  nothing  more 
pregnant  with  all  the  elements  of  positive  terror  was 
ever  seen  than  the  present-time  spectacle  of  Human 
Humbug  set  face  to  face  with  that  Eternal  Equity 
which  has  existed  always,  and  which  ever  will  exist 
without  any  change  in  its  Divine  Source,  Cause  and 
Intention,  Man,  endowed  with  splendid  gifts  of  rea- 
son, imagination  and  psychic  power,  is  everywhere 
gambling  away  his  highest  birthright  for  gold;  Man, 
whom  the  celestial  forces  have  led  step  by  step  through 
carefully  measured  gradations  of  intellectual  evolution 
till  he  has  arrived  at  the  open  gateways  of  Science, 
there  to  behold  the  infinitely  marvellous  benefits  he 
may  possess  and  enjoy,  still  insults  the  Giver  of  all  his 
good  by  his  fumbling  forms  of  faith  and  worship  suited 
only  to  barbaric  minds  in  a  state  of  embryo — Man, 
semi-apathetic  and  in  many  cases  wholly  indifferent 
to  the  higher  roads  of  progress  and  to  the  steady  un- 
folding of  that  endless  perspective  of  order  and  beauty 
intended  for  the  individual  happiness  of  every  indi- 
vidual soul,  still  makes  wilful  havoc  of  his  own  care- 
fully organised  civilisations,  like  a  child  who  builds 
a  house  of  cards  and  blows  it  down  with  a  breath — 
and  this  because  his  civilisations  are  mostly  of  a  flimsy 
structure,  having  no  foundation  on  any  fundamental 
Law  which  Nature  can  or  will  tolerate  for  more  than 


THE  GKEAT  UNKEST  33 

a  very  brief  time.  All  history  teaches  this  with  stern 
and  pitiless  repetition;  and  the  signs  and  portents 
which  gave  warning  of  the  downfall  of  the  Koman 
Empire  were  of  precisely  the  same  character  as  the 
signs  and  portents  which  warn  us  of  similar  downfalls 
impending  for  great  nations  to-day.  The  scheme  of 
Creation  is  plainly  meant  to  be  a  perpetual  movement 
towards  perpetual  advancement — this  truth  is  clearly 
demonstrated  in  all  natural  evolution,  and  Man  is  per- 
force compelled,  despite  himself,  to  move  with  the 
onward  and  upward  process — but  he  invariably  "hangs 
back"  and  tries  to  put  a  stop  on  the  wheel,  with 
the  result  that  he  is  himself  crushed  and  ground 
to  powder  in  the  wheel's  relentless  revolving.  He 
makes  religions,  laws  and  morals  for  himself  which 
have  no  prototype  in  the  order  of  Nature,  and  he 
thereby  stands  rebelliously  opposed  to  the  Supreme 
Intelligence,  whose  design  of  life  being  exact  mathe- 
matics, swerves  not  by  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  a 
hair. 

Hence  arises,  and  always  will  arise,  trouble.  Trou- 
ble and  unrest !  The  sum  of  things  never  comes  right, 
add  it  up,  subtract,  or  multiply  as  we  will.  We  persist 
in  our  childish  efforts  to  fit  in  figures  which  have  no 
place  or  part  in  the  Divine  quantities.  Now  and  then 
in  some  sudden  flash  of  higher  consciousness,  we  see 
the  folly  of  our  actions — but  seeing,  we  pretend  to 
be  blind.  Some  of  us  devote  ourselves  to  a  study  of 
the  sciences,  and  we  peep  through  a  hundred  loop- 
holes into  a  vista  of  shining  truths,  any  one  of  which 
would  help  us  to  draw  closer  to  God — yet  presently 
we  turn  away  and  talk  of  predestination  and  original 
sin,  and  feign  to  believe  in  a  Deity  whose  rage  against 


34:  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

His  own  Creation  is  so  insensate  and  barbaric  as  only 
to  be  pacified  by  Blood!  Blood — blood!  The  cry 
of  the  vengeful,  the  murderous,  the  cruel,  the  tyrannous 
in  all  ages  of  the  world! — yet  we  do  not  hesitate  to 
insult  the  Creator  of  the  whole  Cosmos  by  endowing 
Him  with  this  animal  and  un-God-like  craving!  He, 
who  holds  the  starry  heavens  in  the  hollow  of  His 
Hand — from  whose  expressed  Thought  solar  systems 
are  born  like  blossoms  in  the  fields  of  ether — He,  whose 
vast  love  broods  tenderly  over  all  that  He  hath  made, 
even  to  the  nesting  bird  hidden  under  a  bunch  of 
green  leaves — "not  one  shall  fall  to  the  ground  without 
your  Father" — even  He  it  is  whom  daily  we  wrong 
and  blaspheme  by  our  social  methods  of  life  and  forms 
of  worship,  by  our  deliberate  opposition  to  His  Laws, 
and  by  the  amazingly  insolent  indifference  we  exhibit 
to  His  inviolate  Will  as  shown  through  the  reflection 
of  His  Mind  in  visible  Nature. 

And  so  it  happens  that,  after  a  certain  space  of  time 
in  which  we  are  offered  fresh  chances  of  amendment 
or  betterment  which  we  seldom  take,  things  begin  to 
go  wrong.  We  know  not  how  or  where  the  mischief 
first  started,  because  it  has  stolen  upon  us  by  gradual 
and  insidious  degrees,  and  we  never  dream  of  looking 
for  the  root  of  the  evil  in  ourselves  or  in  our  ancestry. 
But  we  do  become  slowly  and  reluctantly  aware  that 
we  are  not  on  the  right  track — that  "something"  is 
about  to  happen  which  will  upset  all  our  most  cherished 
plans  and  push  us  off  our  present  road  of  what  we  are 
pleased  to  call  "progress"  in  a  sufficiently  disastrous 
manner.  We  have  no  time  to  retrace  our  steps  and 
look  for  the  way  we  have  missed,  for  we  find  that  we 
are  running  down  hill  with  a  singular  self-imposed 


THE  GREAT  UNREST       .  35 

velocity  which  would  make  any  sort  of  a  stop  almost 
impossible — while  to  go  back  would  mean  to  climb  a 
very  steep  and  difficult  ascent,  an  exercise  for  which 
we  are  neither  prepared  nor  willing.  We  have  no 
idea  how  we  managed  the  muddle  in  which  we  find 
ourselves,  but  muddle  it  is  and  muddle  it  remains. 

And  then  we  enter  upon  the  doubtful  period — the 
kind  of  period  in  which  the  whole  world  is  living  to-day 
— a  period  of  vague  uneasiness,  restlessness,  and  fever- 
ish suspense,  looking  for  we  know  not  what,  dissatisfied 
with  things  as  they  are,  yet  unable  to  decide  how  they 
ought  to  ba  Then  is  the  hour  of  the  brazen-mouthed 
religious  ranter  and  the  political  demagogue.  The 
nations  of  the  earth  are  disquieted  mentally  and 
spiritually — the  pulpit  braggart  assumes  to  teach 
them,  and  the  upstart  in  politics  offers  to  reform  them. 
And  like  the  waves  of  the  sea  before  a  storm  breaks, 
the  people  surge  to  and  fro  in  billowy  masses,  with 
here  and  there  a  gleam  of  hope  among  them  like  light 
on  spraying  foam,  but  for  the  most  part  moving  in 
darkness  and  deep  unrest.  For  the  time  is  past  when 
the  balm  of  old  tradition  can  be  applied  as  a  soothing 
salve  to  the  spiritual  wounds  of  humanity.  Men  do 
not  want  to  be  soothed,  but  roused — fired  to 
noblest  energy,  greatest  aims  and  splendid  achieve- 
ment— and  they  need  to  feel  that  their  efforts  to  reach 
the  Highest  are  worth  the  making,  and  that  the  fight 
which  they  enter  upon  means  victory  in  the  end. 

This,  most  unfortunately,  is  not  made  plain  to  them 
by  either  the  faiths  or  followings  of  modern  society. 
The  Churches  have  in  a  great  measure  lost  their  hold 
upon  the  people,  and  the  consolidation  of  family  life 
is  a  thing  of  the  past.  When  England  was  truly  great, 


36  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

the  love  of  home  and  country  was  the  chief  foundation 
of  her  greatness,  as  it  should  be  with  all  nations  seeking 
to  hold  high  place  and  power — but  in  our  present 
modes  of  living,  both  in  England  and  America,  "home" 
is  voted  hum-drum  and  a  bore — sons  and  daughters 
openly  profess  the  gad-about  principle  of  what  they 
term  "pleasure,"  and  are  more  or  less  indifferent  to 
the  interests  or  convenience  of  their  parents,  showing 
no  more  reverence  or  consideration  for  them  than  is 
necessary  to  obtain  financial  "supplies."  They  snap 
the  chain  that  should  bind  them  to  filial  tenderness 
and  duty,  and  follow  their  own  particular  forms  of 
enjoyment  with  a  cool  selfishness  which  can  but 
astonish  any  thoughtful  beholder — yet  even  this 
reprehensible  attitude  of  the  rising  generation  is  but 
a  phase  of  the  general  "Unrest"  pervading  all  classes 
and  all  ages — the  vague  sense  that  nothing  is  going 
to  last  very  long — that  some  dire  mischief  threatens 
the  world — and  that  one  must  try  to  enjoy  oneself 
while  one  can,  because  there  is  no  time  left  to  do  any- 
thing else.  And  well-meaning  fathers  and  mothers, 
especially  those  of  the  upper  classes,  adapt  themselves 
more  or  less  compassionately  and  with  regret  to  the 
new  and  often  exceedingly  bad  manners  of  their 
children,  who,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  resemble  the 
Biblical  "daughters  of  the  horse-leech,"  crying  "Give! 
Give!"  and  regard  their  progenitors  merely  as  human 
banks  on  which  they  expect  to  draw  ad  libitum,  till 
the  coin  gives  out.  All  this  is  wrong,  hopelessly  wrong. 
Fathers  should  be  supported  by  their  sons,  if  support 
is  needed — not  sons  supported  by  their  fathers.  And 
in  such  strange  times  as  these,  when  women  are  so 
ready  to  throw  off  their  womanliness  and  become 


THE  GREAT  UNREST  37 

mere  roughs  in  the  general  fray,  they  too  must  be 
expected  to  put  themselves  in  harness  and  earn  the 
right  to  live.  They  have  wilfully  destroyed  the  ideal 
of  woman,  so  long  and  lovingly  cherished  by  man  in 
the  days  of  sentiment  and  chivalry — and  now  they 
can  hardly  wonder  if  husbands  prove  difficult  to  secure. 
Men  will  think  a  hundred  times  before  entering  into 
marriage  with  possible  window-smashers, 

Yet  it  is  all  part  and  parcel  of  the  one  thing — the 
Great  Unrest  which,  like  a  storm  atmosphere,  envelops 
all  our  modern  civilisation.  There  is  no  country  that 
does  not  feel  it — no  nation  that  is  not  uneasily  con- 
scious of  being  on  the  verge  of  change.  The  disruption 
of  family  life — the  revolt  of  Woman  against  her  own 
nature,  and  the  frenzied  ultra-stupidity  she  exhibits 
in  the  efforts  she  makes  to  reverse  her  own  God- 
ordained  position  in  the  scheme  of  creation — the 
pathetic  bewilderment  and  weariness  of  Man  himself, 
left  without  any  of  his  old  ideals  of  faith  or  love,  and 
clinging  to  gold  as  the  only  seemingly  tangible  good 
which  may  procure  him  some  bodily  comfort  and 
ease,  though  feeling  in  his  own  soul  that  even  this  is 
little  worth — all  these  things  are  forerunners  of  coming 
trouble  to  which  we  are  as  yet  unable  to  give  a  name. 
Most  notable  and  most  tremendous  of  all  portents, 
however,  is  the  earthquake  tremor  that  is  shaking  the 
Churches  to  their  foundations,  and  the  growth  and 
extension  of  what  is  called  the  "New  Thought."  The 
New  Thought  is  really  the  Old  Thought — the  Thought 
which  was  the  underlying  germ  of  the  mystic  religions 
of  the  East,  and  the  foundation  of  the  Platonic 
philosophy.  The  "Thought"  has  become  overlaid  by 
a  multiplicity  of  differing  human  opinions,  forming, 


38  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

as  is  their  habit,  into  useless  and  mischievous  systems 
— but  in  its  pure  beginning  it  is  the  Christ  in  embryo 
— the  God-in-Man.  In  simplest  truth  it  is  an  eternal 
Thought  which  by  Divine  inspiration  teaches  us  that 
the  Soul  or  spirit  of  every  human  being  is  an  individual 
portion  of  the  Spirit  of  God — and  that  as  such  it  is 
an  immortal  creature,  whose  destiny  is  glorious,  whose 
splendid  faculties  are  for  the  purpose  of  evolving  itself 
through  phases  of  wide  advancement  to  wider  attain- 
ment, and  for  whom  there  is  and  can  be  no  such  thing 
as  death.  This  Earth  is  its  present  school  and  play- 
ground— Nature  is  its  teacher,  as  well  as  its  subject 
and  servant.  It  is  to  learn  what  it  can  and  will  by 
patient  study  and  grateful  experience — it  is  to  use 
what  it  finds  in  all  things  pleasant,  helpful,  joyous, 
noble,  and  gracious — it  is  to  breathe  in  an  atmosphere 
of  love;  and  with  the  Supreme  Intelligence  of  which 
it  is  a  part,  it  may  feed  as  it  will  among  the  lilies  of 
life,  and  may  say,  "My  Beloved  is  mine  and  I  am 
His." 

This  spiritual  tie  between  man  and  his  Maker  has 
never  been  sufficiently  emphasised  by  the  Churches. 
Their  religious  forms  of  worship  impress  upon  us  that 
we  are  miserable  sinners  whatever  we  do,  that  we 
must  try  to  save  our  souls,  and  that  we  must  put  as 
much  as  we  can  into  the  collection-plate.  In  great 
sorrow  or  difficulty  these  instructions  are  not  very 
helpful.  Sometimes  indeed  we  doubt  whether  God 
meant  us  to  consider  ourselves  such  "miserable  sinners" 
after  all.  Our  perpetual  whinings  and  lamentations 
cannot  make  sweet  music  on  the  Divine  records.  God 
gave  us  our  bodies,  not  to  chastise  and  mortify,  but 
to  care  for  and  make  healthy  and  beautiful;  and  the 


THE  GEEAT  UNREST  39 

laws  He  has  framed  for  our  guidance  and  maintenance 
are  such  that  if  one  be  broken,  punishment  is  bound 
to  follow.  There  is  no  forgiveness,  because  there 
simply  cannot  be  any  deviation  in  the  mathematical 
precision  of  the  universal  plan.  And  the  punishment 
is  measured  exactly  to  the  fault.  If  we  refuse  to  go 
forward,  we  must  go  back — we  are  not  allowed  to 
stand  still.  If  a  man  elects  to  throw  himself  headlong 
from  a  steeple,  not  all  the  prayers  of  the  saints  could 
alter  the  law  of  gravitation  which  causes  him  to  fall 
and  break  his  neck.  What  is  true  of  physical  law  is 
equally  true  of  spiritual  law,  since  Matter  is  simply 
Spirit  substantiated  and  made  temporarily  visible  in 
endless  temporary  forms.  And  all  God-ordained  laws, 
whether  physical  or  spiritual,  are  framed  for  the  guid- 
ance, benefit,  and  advancement  of  creation — whereas 
we,  by  devising  other  laws  which  pull  contrary  to 
Divine  ways  and  means,  find  ourselves  "in  darkness 
and  the  shadow  of  death"  instead  of  in  light  and  the 
splendour  of  life.  In  our  day  Science  has  come  to  our 
rescue,  and  like  a  great  Angel  stands  at  the  open  door 
of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven;  she  shows  us  the  "many 
mansions"  of  worlds  upon  worlds  in  the  Father's  House 
— she  points  out  the  loving  care  with  which  even  the 
tiniest  organism  of  life  is  protected — she  instructs  us 
how  we  may  press  the  lightning  into  our  service  and 
use  the  waves  of  the  air  to  convey  our  messages  from 
one  land  to  the  other — and  she  impresses  upon  us, 
even  as  a  loving  mother  impresses  a  beautiful  truth 
upon  her  child,  the  fact  that  we — even  we — are  per- 
mitted to  be  the  rulers  of  this  wonderful  planet,  so 
full  of  exquisite  beauty  and  joy — and  that  we  are 
expected  to  use  the  endless  gifts  bestowed  upon  us 


40  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

with  love,  wisdom  and  courage,  developing  ourselves 
into  a  noble  race  of  creatures  worthy  of  ever  nobler 
and  higher  issues. 

Thus  it  has  come  to  pass  that  with  Science  leading 
us  ever  onward  and  upward,  we  cannot  any  longer 
in  reason  look  upon  "Our  Father"  as  a  capricious  ty- 
rant, needing  a  sacrifice  of  blood  to  pacify  His  wrath 
against  us.  Instead  of  this  barbarous  conception,  we 
realise  that  Perfect  Justice  cannot  possibly  be  angry 
with  what  it  has  Itself  ordained — and  we  are  overpow- 
ered and  brought  to  our  knees  in  devout  adoration  be- 
fore the  Great  Spirit  of  Love  which  is  the  Generator  of 
the  universe,  and  which  out  of  smallest  beginnings 
works  to  greatest  ends — work  in  which  we  are  permit- 
ted, nay,  expected  and  commanded,  to  take  an  active 
part,  our  disobedience  always  resulting  in  disaster  to 
ourselves. 

It  is  the  contemplation  of  these  truths  which  Science 
hourly  and  daily  demonstrates  to  the  glory  of  the  Cre- 
ator that  the  "New"  or  "Old"  Thought  has  arisen 
in  all  its  strength,  like  Christ  from  the  grave,  "walking 
in  the  garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day."  Hence  the  earth- 
quake tottering  of  the  Churches,  and  the  ever-spreading 
great  wave  of  religious  unrest.  There  is,  among  many 
deeply  thinking  people,  an  uneasy  sense  that  we  have 
insulted  the  real  and  ever  present  God  by  our  narrow 
and  more  or  less  selfish  systems  of  faith,  and  that  we 
must  hasten  to  make  amends.  Therefore,  putting 
the  question  of  the  mentally  unfit  aside  in  the  general 
sorting  of  the  sheep  from  the  goats,  it  seems  evident 
that  the  time  is  ripening  towards  a  New  Eevelation 
of  the  Divine  in  Man — a  "sign  from  heaven"  for  the 
better  guidance  of  the  human  soul  towards  ultimate 


THE  GREAT  UNREST  41 

perfection,  and  a  surer  means  of  obtaining  peace  and 
happiness  in  this  life  as  well  as  in  the  life  to  come. 
But  before  the  sign  be  given  there  must  and  will  be 
heavy  tribulation;  "nation  rising  against  nation, 
kingdom  against  kingdom,  earthquakes  and  divers 
troubles" — and  the  very  beginning  of  these  "divers 
troubles"  is  upon  us  now. 

Hence  the  Great  Unrest.  People  scurry  to  and 
fro  all  over  the  earth,  like  ants  disturbed  on  their  hill 
by  a  burning  match  thrown  in  among  them.  They 
do  not  know  what  is  the  matter,  but  they  feel  that 
they  must  keep  moving.  The  sensation  of  inexplicable 
haste  is  upon  them.  There  is  no  time  for  anything. 
Pleasure  easily  palls,  and  the  most  agreeable  society 
develops  into  boredom.  The  days  of  reposeful  leisure, 
in  which  the  greatest  works  of  art  were  created,  are 
ended.  Everything  must  be  got  through  quickly 
nowadays — "scamped"  as  a  matter  of  fact.  Sweetness 
and  harmony  in  music  are  no  longer  admired — it  must 
be  discordant  and  odd  to  suit  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Fine 
painting  is  a  drug  in  the  market  unless  it  be  the  work 
of  an  "old  master" — a  picture  must  be  "sensational" 
in  colour  and  in  execution  to  suit  the  perverted  taste 
of  the  day.  Literature  and  the  drama  must  present 
"problems"  of  a  questionable  nature  before  their 
productions  can  be  pronounced  "great"  by  the  very 
few  critics  who  are  more  than  ordinary  paragraphists 
—while  Poetry,  the  highest  of  all  the  arts,  is  practically 
dead.  The  abnormal  condition  of  the  human  mind 
displays  itself  in  costume,  manners,  and  social  obser- 
vances and  over  all  things  hangs  the  deepening  mist 
of  a  universal  dissatisfaction  for  which  there  seems 


42  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

to  be  no  cause,  and  for  which  we  can  find  no 
name. 

Do  we  mean  to  go  on  blindly,  pretending  we  do  not 
see  ?  "Ye  hypocrites !  Ye  can  discern  the  face  of  the 
sky  and  of  the  earth,  but  how  is  it  that  ye  do  not 
discern  this  time?" 

How  is  it  indeed !  For  "this  time"  is  one  of  the  most 
fated  and  historic  times  in  the  history  of  the  world — 
a  time  when  we  may  perhaps  be  called  upon  to  witness 
the  commencement  of  the  downfall  of  the  greatest  of 
Empires — the  British ; — when  we  may  have  to  watch  its 
magnificent  fabric,  once  the  envy  of  all  other  nations, 
crumbling  before  our  very  eyes — its  pillars  of  state 
pulled  down  by  riotous  demagogues — its  splendid  tradi- 
tions put  to  shame  by  both  parties  in  its  Parliament — 
by  the  one  in  sheer  outlawry,  by  the  other  in  no  less  dis- 
graceful inaction.  We  can  look  on  at  this  and  wonder 
what  new  power  will  arise  from  its  ruins,  but  we  may 
not  dare  to  prophesy  till  after  the  event !  For  this  is 
but  "the  beginning  of  sorrows."  It  little  matters  that 
the  fools  and  jesters  of  the  hour  make  mockery  of  all 
those  who  seek  to  warn  off  the  misguided  people  from 
the  quicksands  whither  they  are  rushing — fools  and  jes- 
ters there  have  always  been  and  always  will  be,  ready  to 
toss  ribaldry  in  the  face  of  Deity  itself  without  com- 
punction. But  the  evil  which  darkly  threatens  modern 
civilisation  is  too  near  and  too  evident  to  be  lightly 
"laughed  down."  Every  student  of  history  knows 
that  when  the  foundations  of  religious  faith  are  shaken 
— when  it  becomes  "a  house  divided  against  itself," 
then  national  disaster  is  close  at  hand.  Man,  deprived 
of  any  high  spiritual  ideal  of  life,  quickly  reverts  to 
mere  selfish  savagery.  The  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  called 


THE  GREAT  TJXREST  43 

"the  gloomy  Dean"  by  a  halfpenny  daily,  because  he 
dares  to  speak  truths  which  are  not  altogether  pleasant 
hearing,  must  have  thought  long  and  deeply,  and 
fully  made  up  his  mind  as  to  what  he  meant  when  he 
said:  "It  is  the  duty  of  the  clergy  to  maintain  that 
it  is  'other  worldliness'  which  alone  had  transformed 
and  could  transform  this  world" — which  means  that 
it  is  only  spiritual  progress  which  can  make  material 
progress  valuable  and  lasting.  The  inward  enlighten- 
ment and  uplifting  of  the  soul  or  spirit  of  each  individ- 
ual man  and  woman  towards  the  highest  and  bravest 
ideals  of  life  and  love,  and  conformity  to  the  laws  of 
creation  as  made  plainly  visible  in  Nature,  is  the  only 
true  civilisation.  This  lesson  is  taught  by  every 
scientific  truth  we  are  permitted  to  investigate.  It 
is  not  preaching  or  platitudinism — it  is  an  incontestable 
eternal  Fact.  Our  lives  on  this  planet  were  intended 
to  be  lives  of  joy,  health,  beauty,  love,  and  mutual 
helpfulness — and  where  we  depart  from  this  intention 
we  insult  and  disobey  the  Creator,  whose  design  is 
one  of  gradual  development  towards  ultimate  perfection. 
We  wrong  Him  when  we  call  this  beautiful  world  "a 
vale  of  tears" — for  our  misfortunes  and  diseases  are 
chiefly  our  own  fault,  and  certainly  are  not  His  doing. 
It  is  time  we  stood  up  with  a  glad  courage,  giving 
thanks  for  all  the  benefits  He  has  showered  upon  us 
without  asking  for  more.  Any  creed  that  is  selfish  and 
whining  is  no  creed  for  the  soul  that  aspires  to  the 
highest  progress.  If  we  invite  evils  upon  ourselves 
we  must  expect  them  to  come — nothing  will  hold 
them  back  if  we  are  trespassers  against  natural  and 
spiritual  laws.  The  Reverend  H.  Mayne  Young, 


44  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

preaching  in  Westminster  Abbey  itself,  pronounced 
the  following  words  with  a  noble  daring: — 

"The  day  is  not  far  distant  when,  unless  the  Church 
of  England  freely  re-states  and  re-models  her  creeds 
so  as  to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  age,  she  will  be 
left  stranded  on  the  shores  of  time,  while  the  tide  of 
this  modern  life  will  leave  her  for  ever  farther  and 
farther  behind — a  sad  warning  of  the  inevitable  results 
of  an  iron-bound  system  of  worn-out  dogmas  and  life- 
less traditions." 

"Worn-out  dogmas  and  lifeless  traditions!"  A  bold 
utterance,  but  true !  And  what  is  true  of  the  Church 
of  England  is  equally  true  of  all  the  Churches  in  the 
world  to-day,  notably  that  of  Rome.  Man,  walking 
in  a  darkness  of  destroyed  illusions,  is  at  that  point 
when  he  may  well  exclaim  with  the  Apostle — "Who 
will  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ?" 

It  needs  no  gift  of  prophecy  and  no  special  intuition 
to  see  that  we  are  on  the  brink  of  some  tremendous 
change  in  the  destinies  of  the  human  race.  Everything 
points  to  it — our  tottering  creeds,  our  fluctuating 
standard  of  manners  and  morals.  What  it  is,  what 
it  may  be  no  one  tries  to  imagine.  People  instinctively 
feel  they  would  rather  not  think  too  much  about 
anything,  or  analyse  the  condition  in  which  they  find 
themselves.  There  is  "no  time"  for  it,  they  say.  Why 
is  there  no  time  ?  Is  the  clock  of  the  universe  running 
down  and  are  the  works  giving  out?  Materially 
speaking,  we  know  that  the  slightest  tilt  of  the  earth 
on  its  axis  would  cause  a  complete  redistribution  of 
its  continents  and  seas,  sweeping  away  every  vestige 
of  civilisation  as  we  now  know  it.  We  never  consider 
this,  imagining  that  such  a  catastrophe  is  not  possible. 


THE  GEEAT  UNKEST  '45 

Yet  God  has  willed  it  so  before,  and  may  will  it  so 
again.  Every  physical  movement  is  preconceived 
by  a  mental  or  spiritual  one.  The  Great  Unrest  is  at 
present  one  of  Spirit  which  will  gradually  dominate 
Matter  and  move  it  to  equal  but  louder  disturbance. 
We  spin  on  our  earth  in  a  gathering  storm-cloud  be- 
tween two  fathomless  gulfs,  the  Past  and  the  Future 
— our  Present  is  the  result  of  the  past,  and  our  future 
will  equally  be  the  work  of  the  Present  We  know  that 
there  is  a  God  of  Love  to  serve,  and  his  Nature-laws 
to  obey,  and  knowing  this,  Ourselves  alone  must  de- 
cide whether  we  will  do  as  we  should,  or  whether  we 
shall  be  forced  to  do  as  we  would  not  I 


THE  WHIRLWIND 

IT  has  come  at  last — that  great  Storm  foretold  by 
national  weather  prophets — it  has  come  with  all  the 
devastating  force  of  a  fury  long  suppressed;  and  the 
black  cloud  has  gathered  over  our  heads  while  yet 
we  drowsed  in  a  dream  of  sunshine.  With  a  sudden 
thunderous  Tush,  as  though  a  god  or  a  demon  should 
tread  the  spaces  of  the  air,  heaven  has  let  loose  the 
whirlwind — the  whirlwind  of  War,  and  far  more  than 
War — the  whirlwind  of  Destiny.  It  has  come  because 
it  was  bound  to  come,  by  the  Unwritten  Law  and  Code 
Invisible.  Men  of  the  world  who  form  governments, 
make  civilisations,  and  build  up  empires  are  always 
forgetting  this  Unwritten  Law — the  Hand  behind 
the  scenes — the  inexorable  and  eternal  forward  move- 
ment of  the  Cosmos,  which  in  its  pre-determined 
progress  overrides  their  best  laid  plans  and  makes 
chaotic  havoc  of  their  most  sagacious  intentions. 
Yet  it  is  a  perfectly  straight  and  simple  Law  after  all 
— one  that  has  existed  from  the  beginning  of  things, 
and  that  will  ever  exist — the  law  of  Nature,  visibly 
expressing  the  Mind  of  God,  and  immutably  set  against 
the  predominance  of  evil.  It  is  an  output  of  the 
Divine  Will,  resolving  itself  easily  into  common, 
even  domestic  forms,  adapted  to  the  needs  of  indi- 
viduals and  nations  alike.  Nature  often  conducts 
herself  like  a  practical  housewife  bent  on  spring 
cleaning. 

46 


THE  WHIRLWIND  47 

"Where  there  is  dirt,"  she  says,  "  it  shall  be  removed  j 
where  there  is  confusion  there  shall  be  order." 

And  her  "cleaning-up"  day  is  invariably  a  frightful 
thing.  The  noise  of  her  sweeping  and  scouring  resounds 
like  thunder  through  the  world.  It  occurs  periodically, 
marking  epochs  of  history,  and  we  read  of  its  results 
in  the  past  with  placid  incredulity,  setting  down  much 
to  exaggeration  and  more  to  deliberate  lying,  idly 
amused  meanwhile  at  the  ridiculous  notion,  suggested 
by  certain  fools,  that  any  such  uproar  and  disaster 
should  ever  be  experienced  by  Ourselves  who  have, 
so  we  consider,  "advanced"  in  civilisation  and  wisdom, 
and  thereby  in  self-control — Ourselves  whose  "culture" 
seems  to  our  own  judgment  a  finer  and  more  perfect 
attainment  than  divine  justice.  The  tornado  of  the 
French  Revolution,  the  pitiless  ravages  of  the 
Napoleonic  wars  have  appeared  to  us  like  a  tale  that 
is  told,  "full  of  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing" 
— and  we  have  lazed  the  time  away,  getting  and 
spending,  in  the  peaceful  high  noon  of  national  pros- 
perity and  contentment,  feeling  confident  that  we 
should  never  in  our  day  be  shaken  from  our  centre- 
poise  of  complacent  self-satisfaction  by  anything  of 
larger  disturbance  than  occasional  family  quarrels 
gotten  up  more  for  the  sake  of  varying  the  monotony 
of  peace  than  with  any  serious  intent.  And  now,  lo! 
— the  bolt  falls — the  vials  of  wrath  and  judgment 
are  opened  and  poured  forth  over  land  and  sea — the 
whirlwind  is  upon  us,  and  we  who  slept  are  awakened 
by  its  sweeping  rage,  its  rattling  rain,  its  lightning 
flashing  against  our  windows  of  security,  and  we  leap 
to  our  feet,  startled  but  not  alarmed — unprepared, 
maybe,  but  not  unready.  We  realise  what  the  storm 


48  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

means,  and  we  know  how  to  weather  it;  we  are  not 
afraid — we  only  wish  we  had  not  slept  quite  so  long ! 
Nevertheless,  though  our  sleep  may  have  been 
heavy,  it  has  refreshed  our  forces  and  has  not  diminished 
our  energies.  Our  waking  is  to  good  purpose.  The 
very  shame  we  feel  at  the  length  of  our  slumber  is 
an  excellent  tonic  and  invigorates  us.  Sleep  shall 
no  more  weigh  down  our  eyelids — we  are  alert,  strong, 
and  resolute,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  whirlwind. 
For  it  is  a  storm  in  which  we  alone  are  not  involved. 
It  has  swept  over  a  smaller  nation  than  our  own,  all 
undeservedly — a  little  sister  nation  with  the  heart  of 
a  thousand  heroes  beating  in  her  small  bosom — and 
her  unmerited  sorrow  has  served  as  the  keynote  to  strike 
all  that  is  in  us  of  Character  and  Conduct.  We  see 
her  defaced  with  blows,  insulted  and  outraged  by 
ravening  cruelties;  and  the  chivalry  born  from  cen- 
turies of  martial  glory  rises  strong  and  full-armed  in 
every  man  that  claims  justice  for  her  wrongs.  We  of 
Britain  have  not  warred  for  ourselves — our  fight  is  for 
the  better,  broader  freedom  of  the  whole  world.  The 
whirlwind  has  caught  us  up  in  the  swoop  of  its  revolv- 
ing wings  solely  that  we  may  take  our  part  in  the  purify- 
ing of  the  House  of  Man.  And  our  victory  will  be 
made  manifest  in  the  open  response  to  our  inward 

intention. 

•  •••••• 

The  militarism  of  Prussia  is  a  crime,  springing  from 
old  roots  of  human  savagery  and  barbarism  which 
should  have  died  long  ago.  The  brutal  War,  made 
treacherous  and  bloody  by  new  devices  of  destruction, 
the  inventions  of  fine  science  misapplied,  was  an 
outbreak  of  stupidity  on  the  part  of  an  obtuse  and 


THE  WHIKLWIND  49 

stupid  set  of  men,  sodden  with  selfishness  and  delirious 
with  a  drunken  dream  of  World-Power.  The  teachings 
of  Treitschke  and  Nietzsche  are  the  teachings  of  egotists 
with  unsound  and  ill-balanced  brains.  Nietzsche  went 
mad,  and  howled  his  philosophies  to  the  walls  of  the 
padded  room.  Treitschke  was  covertly  insane;  like 
the  "secret  drinker"  who  in  public  pretends  he  cannot 
touch  strong  liquor,  he  assumed  to  be  proud  and 
sagacious  when  he  was  no  more  than  crazily  self- 
obses&ed.  He  preached  the  doctrine  of  Hate,  and 
no  sane  man  ever  did  that.  The  German  nation, 
accepting  this  sort  of  "Kultur"  as  gospel,  accepted  the 
ravings  of  the  mentally  deficient,  and,  plunging  breast- 
high  into  a  sea  of  brothers'  blood,  proved  itself  infected 
by  the  same  madness  as  that  which  poisoned  the  veins 
of  its  mad  instructors.  To  any  thoughtful  student, 
looking  on  at  such  a  frightful,  wicked,  and  overwhelm- 
ingly stupid  slaughter  of  men  by  machinery  there  can 
be  nothing  more  terrible,  more  lonely  or  more  accursed 
in  all  the  realm  of  fact  or  fiction  than  the  figure  of 
the  Kaiser — the  miserable  epileptic  who  is  responsible 
for  shrouding  his  "Fatherland"  in  the  black  veil  of 
mourning,  and  for  drowning  its  peace  and  progress 
in  a  flood  of  widows'  and  orphans'  tears.  Mentally 
unbalanced,  physically  inefficient,  and  morally  lacking 
— living  as  one  pursued  by  the  Furies  in  an  armoured 
cage,  and  surrounded  by  guards  on  earth  and  in  air,  lest 
by  chance  his  "Gott"  should  kill  him,  he  moves  one  to 
amazement  and  pity — for  the  whirlwind  has  him  in 
its  centre,  twirling  him  round  and  round  like  a  veritable 
mannikin  of  sport  for  the  dread  gods  of  destiny — a 
mannikin  who  hardly  knows  how  he  came  to  be  where 
he  is,  or  where  he  will  find  himself  when  the  storm  is 


50  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

past.  Meanwhile  his  voice  is  heard  above  the  storm 
shouting  "To  England !  England!  The  one  foe!  My 
Mother's  land,  which  I  hate!  Would  that  every  drop 
of  British  blood  in  my  veins  might  be  drained  out 
of  mei" 

Well,  why  not?  A  calf  has  been  bled  before  now, 
and  not  a  drop  of  its  mother's  blood  has  been  left  in 
its  carcase — there  is  nothing  to  prevent  this  desirable 
consummation  for  the  Kaiser  since  he  so  devoutly 
wishes  it.  The  whirlwind  may  strip  him  yet,  and 
perform  this  required  kindness!  But  in  the  interval 
the  arrogant  and  half-crazed  "War  Lord"  has  sacrificed 
the  best  flower  and  strength  of  Germany's  manhood 
to  his  criminal  and  insatiable  lust  of  power.  The 
German  people  have  not  yet  realised  the  mercilessness 
of  this  military  despot — but  when  they  do — when  they 
count  the  desolate  homes,  the  ruined  trades,  the  lost 
commerce,  the  ravaged  lives  and  broken  hearts  which 
mark  the  "triumph"  of  the  stagey  and  spectacular 
"hero"  they  have  worshipped,  there  will  be  an  end  of 
the  blind  credulity  with  which  they  have  followed  a 
vain  ideal. 

•  «»*»• 

For  us  BritisE,  the  Whirlwind  is  a  grand  thing. 
It  is  blowing  us  fiercely  clean  of  Self — it  is  tearing  away 
from  us  the  silly  sophistries  of  fashion  and  frivolity 
and  showing  us  things  in  their  true  light.  Our  ape- 
like jesters  of  the  press,  of  the  Bernard  Shaw  type, 
who  have  mocked  at  all  things  holy,  serious,  and  earnest, 
are  finding  their  proper  level,  and  shrinking  into  corners 
where  they  are  scarcely  seen — where  it  is  to  be  hoped 
they  may  be  peaceably  forgotten.  Our  "sex-problems," 
our  "advanced"  women,  our  screaming  Doll  Tear-sheets 


THE  WHIKLWIND  51 

of  militant  suffrage — these  trouble  the  air  no  more  with 
the  hysterics  which  are  engendered  by  having  nothing 
useful  to  do.  We  have  no  time  for  trifling.  We  are 
face  to  face  with  the  long-despised  Obvious — "Life  is 
real,  life  is  earnest" — and  we  are  casting  off  the  slough 
of  political  humbug  and  social  sham,  and  are  as  one 
in  the  splendid  bond  of  patriotism  and  love  of  country. 
We  may  trust  the  Storm;  we  may  welcome  the  Whirl- 
wind. It  has  come  to  clear  the  sky  of  miasma  and 
vapour — it  is  making  light  to  show  us  where  we  truly 
stand.  If  we  are  honest  with  ourselves  we  shall  admit 
that  in  latter  years  we  have  given  ourselves  over-much 
to  the  pursuit  of  material  gain  and  personal  pleasure, 
we  have  neglected  our  faith  in  divine  and  high  ideals, 
and  Self  has  been  more  or  less  our  god;  it  was  time 
that  we  received  a  wholesome  check  and  a  warning 
before  we  lost  all  that  has  made  us  great.  We  have 
responded  swiftly  to  the  goading  spur — our  crust  of 
selfishness  was  but  thin  after  all,  and  has  broken  and 
melted  away  in  a  flood  of  magnificent  generosity  and 
practical  sympathy — for  never  had  nation  a  nobler 
Cause  than  ours,  when,  as  brothers  in  arms  with  our 
brave  allies,  we  fought  to  right  the  unspeakable  wrongs 
of  unoffending  Belgium,  and  to  aid  in  defending  France 
from  the  invader  and  usurper.  Should  the  enemy  con- 
quer in  this  mighty  struggle  the  whole  world  will  be 
the  impoverished  loser;  should  we  and  our  allies  win, 
the  whole  world  will  gain  by  our  victory  and  share 
with  us  a  wider,  nobler  freedom  than  before.  It  is  for 
this  cause  that  the  Whirlwind  has  come  upon  us — to 
cleanse  a  cancer  from  our  midst,  and  to  put  away  from 
ourselves  and  our  neighbours  the  dread  contamination 
of  a  disease  involving  the  whole  trend  of  civilisation. 


52  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

We  may  thank  God  for  it,  despite  all  its  terrors,  its 
rain  of  blood,  its  thunders  of  the  air  and  sea,  its 
swift  death  dealt  to  thousands  of  innocent  souls — it  is 
a  storm  that  was  needed  to  clear  the  air.  And  when 
it  is  past,  and  the  sun  shines  once  more,  we  shall  realise 
that  its  causes  were  to  be  found  not  in  one  nation 
only,  but  in  many — in  ourselves  as  well  as  in  our  foes — 
and  that  some  great  and  forceful  movement  of  destiny 
was  urgently  called  for  to  sweep  away  from  humanity 
the  accumulating  mass  of  its  own  self-wrought  evil. 
And  if  victory  should  be  ours,  it  will  behove  us  to  take 
it  with  all  humility,  giving  thanks  to  God — "lest  we 
forget!" 


THE  KAISER'S  HARVEST  OF  DEATH 

A   CRIME  OF  STUPIDITY 
(First  published  in  the  "Sunday  Times") 

IN  every  great  national  crisis,  when  war  or  revolution 
brings  havoc  on  existing  civilisation  and  works  sudden 
and  violent  change  in  all  social,  political,  and  diplo- 
matic relations,  we  are  invariably  able  to  discover  One 
Man — or  at  the  most,  perhaps,  two  or  three  men — 
primarily  responsible  for  the  general  upheaval. 

History  is  impressively  explicit  concerning  these 
personages.  She  never  fails  to  show  us  how,  by  some 
strange  lack  of  the  most  ordinary  foresight  and  com- 
mon sense,  they  stumble  when  apparently  on  the  height 
of  success,  and  commit  irreparable  blunders  which 
hasten  their  careers  to  a  disastrous  close.  Such  was 
the  case  with  Napoleon  and  many  other  would-be 
Alexanders  of  ambition ;  but  of  all  the  tragic  blunderers 
of  time  surely  none  can  equal  or  surpass  the  "War 
Lord"  of  Germany.  Here  is  a  man  who  had  the  splen- 
did chance  of  securing  for  his  country  and  people  the 
largest  share  of  the  commerce  of  Europe;  it  lay  easily 
within  his  grasp.  Yet  he  has  let  it  go,  like  a  handful 
of  sand  and  shells  dropped  by  a  child  at  play  on  the 
seashore.  To  satisfy  the  personal  cravings  of  a  vaunting, 
blustering  Egoism  for  blood-and-thunder  "effects"  he 
has  lost  the  peaceful  conquest  of  a  world ! 

Amazing,  deplorable,  and  incredible  folly! — when 
such  conquest  could  have  been  gained  without  a  blow, 

53 


54  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

without  the  boom  of  a  single  gun,  without  the  explosion 
of  a  single  shell!  It  could  have  been  attained  in  the 
only  way  by  which  any  truly  "civilised"  nation  should 
ever  seek  supremacy — through  the  development  of  in- 
dustry and  commerce,  and  the  quiet  assumption  of 
the  power  that  industry  and  commerce  give.  All  that 
we  call  "progress"  should  fortijjy  the  stand  of  human 
resolution  on  this  basis.  It  is  not  necessary,  it  is 
not  even  sane  or  decent  that  any  peoples  should  tolerate 
what  Carlyle  describes  as  "the  spectacle  of  men  with 
clenched  teeth  and  hell-fire  eyes  hacking  one  another's 
flesh,  converting  precious  living  bodies  and  priceless 
living  souls  into  nameless  masses  of  putrescence,  useful 
only  for  turnip  manure" — which  is  a  rough  but  ac- 
curate picture  of  war  deprived  of  all  its  devilish  excite- 
ment and  glamour. 

WASTED  OPPOETUNITY 

To  Kaiser  William  more  than  to  any  other  monarch 
of  his  time  was  given  the  glorious  chance  of  becoming 
the  greatest  benefactor  of  Germany  which  that  realm 
had  ever  known.  He  could  have  created  for  his  people 
such  conditions  of  peace,  happiness,  and  prosperity 
as  were  almost  incalculable.  He  stood  in  the  broad 
sunshine  of  ripening  trade — t]ie  markets  of  the  world 
were  open  to  him — fields  of  wealth  were  spreading 
around  him  on  all  sides,  and  his  cheerfully  working 
millions  had  but  to  reap  the  grain  their  industries  had 
sown  and  gather  in  a  rich  and  plenteous  harvest.  Why, 
then,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  great,  noble,  and  pitiful, 
did  he  choose  to  make  a  harvest  of  death  instead  of 
life? 


THE  KAISER'S  HARVEST  55 

A    TRAGIC   WITNESS 

During  the  grim  and  ghastly  struggle  at  Verdun 
we  are  told  the  Kaiser,  standing  "at  safe  distance," 
watched  through  his  field-glasses  the  fiery  mowing 
down  of  his  countrymen  to  the  number  of  forty-five 
thousand !  Does  any  one,  reading  this,  take  the  trouble 
to  pause  and  consider  what  it  means  ?  Forty-five  thou- 
sand strong,  brave  men  in  the  flower  of  manhood  (for 
let  us  hope  we  are  none  of  us  so  unjust  as  to  deny  our 
enemies  their  strength  or  their  courage)  ;  forty-five 
thousand  capable  human  beings  fit  for  every  sort  of 
industrial  labour — the  blood  and  bone  of  future  gen- 
erations— slaughtered  like  vermin ;  and  their  Emperor, 
their  sworn  Defender  and  Protector,  within  sight-range, 
looking  on! 

What  a  "Harvest  Home" !  Are  we  able  to  conceive 
the  nature  and  temperament  of  a  monarch  who  could 
so  look  on  at  this  massacre  of  his  subjects  and  not 
rush  among  them  to  stop  the  advance  of  their  serried 
ranks  and  "massed  formations,"  resulting  in  such  a 
wanton  and  wicked  waste  of  life?  The  crazy  antics 
of  Nero  were  mere  child's  play  compared  with  this 
callous  attitude  of  William  of  Hohenzollern ;  an  attitude 
which  even  his  French  foes  cannot  maintain.  For, 
fired  with  vengeance  for  old  wrongs  as  they  are,  and 
bent  on  victorious  justice,  they  have  declared  themselves 
"sick  with  slaughter." 

"Such  hecatombs,"  writes  Colonel  Rousset,  "cannot 
last.  Our  adversary,  while  carrying  his  disregard  of 
human  life  to  the  point  of  madness,  cannot  go  on 
throwing  his  soldiers  into  the  charnel-house  without 
thinking  of  to-morrow." 


56  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

The  losses  of  the  Germans  at  Verdun  have  been 
estimated  at  10,000  per  day!  "I  dream  at  night," 
writes  one  French  artillery  officer,  "of  those  ghastly 
crumpled  heaps  of  shattered  gray-green  bodies!  Ger- 
many's wives  and  mothers  must  curse  the  Kaiser  in 
their  prayers!" 

THE    CRIME    OF   STUPIDITY 

Voltaire  is  accredited  with  the  saying  that  "the  only 
crime  is  stupidity."  According  to  this  dictum  one 
must  come  to  consider  the  "All-Highest  War  Lord"  the 
greatest  criminal  of  an  epoch,  his  stupidity  being  al- 
most without  parallel  in  history.  What  man,  not  en- 
tirely mad,  seeing  a  world  of  prosperity  within  reach  of 
his  hand  would  clench  his  fist  and  knock  the  whole 
splendid  sphere  away  from  him  at  one  blow !  The  prop- 
osition seems  absurd  and  untenable,  yet  it  has  been  and 
continues  to  be  the  Kaiser's  policy,  or  the  policy  of 
his  ministers  and  advisers;  clear  to  all  save  those 
who  remain  perversely  and  wilfully  blind. 

For  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  before  the  war 
Germany  was  pushing  quietly  but  surely  through 
every  branch  of  commerce.  From  triumph  to  triumph 
she  moved  easily  onward;  everywhere  her  ramifica- 
tions were  spreading  like  the  vigorous  roots  of  a  fast- 
growing  tree.  In  Great  Britain  she  had  possessed 
herself  of  many  of  our  trades;  her  goods  were  every- 
where; her  cutlery,  her  glass,  her  woollens,  her  linens, 
her  dyes,  her  silver  and  copper  ware,  her  chemicals 
— why,  even  our  very  window-frames  were  "Made  in 
Germany" !  She  was  at  work  in  our  mines  and  coal- 
fields; she  was  ahead  of  us  in  science,  in  invention, 
in  industry  and  general  "thoroughness." 


THE  KAISEK'S  HAEVEST  57 

And  let  us  not  forget  that  we  were,  or  appeared  to 
be,  supinely  indifferent  to  her  inroads  on  all  that  we 
used  to  claim  as  our  "special  line"  and  particular 
property.  We  were,  like  Hamlet,  "growing  fat  and 
scant  of  breath."  We  were  disposed  to  indolence  and 
self-indulgence,  and,  when  we  saw  Germans  working 
for  us,  and  ly  us,  and  through  us,  taking  the  very  tools 
out  of  our  listless  hands,  we  were  agreeably  convinced 
that  they  saved  us  a  deal  of  trouble.  They  worked 
so  cheaply,  too ! — and  cheapness  in  necessary  goods 
appealed  to  us,  because  it  gave  us  more  to  spend  on 
racing  and  football.  The  "Space  for  Special  News" 
in  our  Press  was  not  reserved  (as  intelligent  foreigners 
conceive  it  ought  to  be)  for  serious  information  on 
world's  business ;  but  for  "Football  Results"  or  cricket, 
in  the  respective  seasons  of  these  gamesome  athletics 
— and  the  very  word  "patriotism"  was  laughed  out  of 
court  as  "Jingoism."  We  gave  the  honours  of  heroes 
to  our  tennis  champions,  and  played  about  while  the 
Germans  worked.  They  worked — as  many  of  the 
British  refuse  to  work;  they  saved — as  many  of  the 
British  decline  to  save ;  they  gained  their  ends,  because 
by  our  very  inertia  we  gave  them  every  opportunity 
to  do  so. 

BEITISH    APATHY 

Mr.  Hughes,  Prime  Minister  of  Australia,  said  in  a 
recent  speech  that  Germany  "had  abused  our  foolishly 
generous  hospitality."  This  is  not  quite  accurate, 
since  we  were  neither  so  generous  nor  hospitable  as 
careless  and  lazy.  We  allowed  our  trades  to  slip 
through  our  fingers — the  State  did  nothing  for  native 
work,  science,  or  invention — and  ambitious  men  of 


58  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

hope  and  endeavour  left  the  country  in  shoals  to  make 
fortunes  in  other  lands,  many  firms  establishing  them- 
selves in  Germany  in  order  to  win  the  rewards  denied 
them  in  their  native  home  I 

Germany  held  a  more  tenacious  grip  on  every  corner 
of  the  earth  than  we  in  our  latter  "go-as-you-please" 
way  ever  realised.  All  over  the  United  States,  Canada, 
and  Australia  her  people  have  spread;  you  find  them 
in  India,  in  Persia,  in  Egypt,  in  Africa;  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  there  is  no  country  where  German  influence 
has  not  been  actively  at  work  while  other  nations 
looked  On.  Antwerp  itself  was  wellnigh  possessed 
by  German  commerce  before  its  military  bombard- 
ment; it  was  already  a  centre  of  German  trade  and 
German  shipping,  and  in  many  of  its  business  houses 
more  German  was  spoken  than  either  French  or 
Flemish.  Great  Britain  was  lagging  behind  in  the 
race;  and  had  peace  been  maintained  for  another 
twenty-five  years  Germany  might  easily  have  mastered 
the  world;  and  we  might  have  lost  all  leading  hold 
on  commerce. 

For  let  us  not  delude  ourselves  on  the  subject  of 
our  own  inertia !  It  is  owing  to  the  magnificent  stand 
made  for  justice  and  right  by  the  hero-King  of  Belgium 
that  we  have  been  awakened  from  long  apathy;  had 
it  not  been  for  his  resolute  example,  both  France  and 
England  would  have  suffered  far  more  than  they  are 
suffering  now !  Friend  and  Defender  of  both  nations, 
he  stands  out  as  the  noblest  figure  in  the  struggle — 
the  one  who,  when  victory  sits  upon  our  helm, 
must  be  the  first  to  receive  that  which  is  due 
to  him:  the  restoration  of  his  country  and  his 
throne. 


THE  KAISER'S  HARVEST  59 

LOSS   AND   GAIN 

And  now  the  rivers  of  gold  that  were  flowing  into 
Germany  through  her  trade  are  stopped,  "damned 
up"  as  the  sensational  special  correspondent  would 
say — by  British,  French,  and  German  dead!  The 
latest  estimate  of  German  losses  at  Verdun  is  two 
hundred  thousand !  Does  the  Kaiser,  at  safe  distance, 
still  "look  on"  ?  What  blessing  has  this  monarch  of 
a  great  and  productive  realm  brought  upon  his  people  ? 
Mourning,  desolation,  and  irremediable  misery!  No 
triumph,  no  victory  can  atone  for  such  a  deluge  of 
blood  and  tears!  That  capricious  Personage  "some- 
where in  Heaven,"  whom  Wilhelm  calls  "Unser  Gott," 
may  possibly  resent  the  deliberate  casting  away  of 
golden  opportunities  on  the  part  of  his  crowned  earthly 
"familiar,"  to  whom  a  peaceful  world  was  offered, 
only  to  be  kicked  aside  for  a  battered  helmet  and 
broken  sword! 

"Thrust  in  thy  sickle  and  reap !"  O  Emperor  of  a 
brief  and  bitter  day!  The  harvest  of  death,  not  life! 
— the  harvest  of  curses,  not  blessings !  The  thousands 
of  dead  men — dead  in  the  very  strength  of  manhood 
— sacrificed  in  a  holocaust  on  the  flaming  altar  of  the 
wickedest  war  the  world  has  ever  seen,  may  have 
their  own  story  to  tell  to  "Unser  Gott";  so  may  the 
bereaved  and  wretched  women  whose  husbands  and 
eons  have  been  torn  from  their  arms  for  ever.  May 
the  true  God  help  them  all! — for  in  the  unspeakable 
hell  of  iniquity  around  us  man  is  wellnigh  powerless; 
though,  like  every  evil  thing,  war  has  its  good  side. 
It  shows  us  with  each  day  heroism  of  the  finest,  courage 
of  the  strongest,  self-sacrifice  of  the  noblest,  existing 


60  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

among  us  all ;  and  it  has  reawakened  the  higher  spirit 
of  England.  For  this  we  have  cause  to  be  devoutly 
thankful!  In  a  certain  sense  it  has  saved  us  from 
ourselves;  and  from  the  enervating  love  of  pleasure 
and  personal  avarice  which  was  slowly  undermining 
our  better  qualities. 

And  even  the  Kaiser,  "looking  on"  at  the  legions  of 
his  own  subjects  falling  like  withered  leaves  in  a  whirl- 
wind of  fire,  may  one  day  shake  off  his  frenzied  night- 
mare of  battle,  and  repent — exclaiming  with  Judas: — 

"I  have  sinned,  in  that  I  have  betrayed  the  innocent 
blood!" 


THIS  AMAZING  WAR 

A  WOMAN'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

(Reprinted  by  special  request  from  the  "Sunday  Pictorial"  of 
March  28,  1915) 

WHAT  can  be  said  or  thought  of  it?  This  wonderful 
massing  of  nations — this  appalling  slaughter  of  men 
— this  relentless  rolling  on  of  a  Divine  Elemental 
Force,  too  vast  and  powerful  and  resolute  for  humanity 
to  resist !  It  is  a  War  so  terrible,  yet  withal  so  grand, 
and  so  pregnant  with  infinite  issues  that  we,  who  are 
swept  by  the  dust  and  carnage  of  its  fighting  millions 
— we,  who  are  stunned  by  the  clash  and  clamour  of 
the  frightful  weapons  of  modern  science  which  it  uses 
on  land,  under  sea,  and  in  air,  are  more  or  less  in- 
credulous and  stupefied,  and  we  have  been  only  with 
difficulty  aroused  to  try  and  understand  its  fateful 
import.  It  is  Destiny  in  labour;  and  the  pangs  and 
throes  of  her  child-birth  will  give  us  a  New  World! 
For  the  Old  World  is  fast  crumbling  and  crushing 
down  upon  us  like  an  ancient  ruin  struck  by  lightning- 
flash  and  thunderbolt;  the  old  vices,  lusts,  and  little- 
nesses are  being  torn  away  from  us  as  a  storm-wind 
tears  away  the  parasite  ivies  from  mouldering  walls 
— and  we  shall  presently  see  a  break  in  the  clouds  and 
light  through  the  darkness.  This  thing  of  terror  and 
confusion  Was  To  Be;  it  Had  To  Be!  It  has  been 
coming  upon  us  slowly,  but  steadily,  for  years — and 

61 


62  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

if  we  are  honest  with  ourselves  we  shall  admit  that  we 
have  felt  its  approach  instinctively  in  a  general  sense 
of  insecurity — in  a  feverish  impulse  of  haste  to  live 
lest  we  should  suddenly  die ! 

Something — we  know  not  what — a  cloud  or  a  blight 
— has  visibly  lowered  over  the  face  of  European 
civilisation,  and  in  order  to  set  aside  certain  strange 
and  perplexing  inconsistencies  of  such  conduct  among 
us  as  might  induce  us  seriously  to  Think — we  have 
flung  ourselves  eagerly  into  a  vortex  of  "sensations" 
new  and  old,  bad  and  good,  virtuous  and  vicious, 
with  a  kind  of  furious  recklessness,  bordering  on 
insanity.  Any  lapse  of  morals,  any  bizarre  or  weird 
"craze"  in  art,  any  indecency  in  literature,  has  been 
acclaimed  and  encouraged  as  "new"  and  "strong" 
instead  of  being  condemned  for  being  old  and  weak 
as  such  things  truly  are — and  in  many  vital  matters 
the  nation  has  been  moved  by  a  petulant  spirit  of 
selfish,  restless  irritability,  like  that  of  a  querulous 
old  man  who  has  neither  the  grace  nor  the  courage 
to  accept  his  age  with  wisdom,  sweetness,  and  dignity. 
And  among  various  mad  things  we  have  done,  one 
stands  out  pre-eminently  as  the  maddest — and  that 
is  the  tacit  encouragement  given  by  a  section 
of  society  and  the  press  to  a  brood  of  Atheists, 
who  have  trailed  their  poisonous  slime  along  the 
pathways  of  peace  where  the  youth  of  this 

"Happy  breed  of  men,  this  little  world. 
This  precious  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea," 

have  wandered  unsuspectingly,  gathering  the  ugly 
stain  on  the  innocent  white  of  their  souls'  garments. 


THIS  AMAZING  WAR  63 

Never  did  a  sin  of  this  nature  occur  in  the  history  of 
nations  without  Divine  punishment  inflicted,  not  so 
much  to  destroy  as  to  purify.  The  chronicles  of  every 
civilisation  ever  known  or  heard  of  bear  unswerving 
testimony  to  the  truth  that  whenever  a  nation  or  a 
people  assumes  to  itself  Divine  right,  dismissing  from 
its  mind  and  conscience  the  idea  of  any  higher  Supreme 
Power  before  Whom  it  should  humiliate  itself  daily 
with  thanksgiving  and  prayer,  that  nation  or  people 
has  been  allowed  to  follow  the  lure  of  its  own  intel- 
lectual pride  and  self-sufficiency  to  inevitable  disaster. 

IDEAL  WOBTH  FIGHTING  FOB 

This  is,  and  this  will  be,  the  case  with  Germany. 
For  years  her  people  have  willingly  listened  to  the 
teachings  of  egoists  and  madmen  such  as  Treitschke 
and  Nietzsche — for  years  they  have  scoffed  at  Christi- 
anity, its  Founder  and  its  ethics;  and  they  have 
tempted  the  Divine  Spirit  in  Man  with  the  devil's 
whisper,  "All  these  things  will  I  give  thee  if  thou  wilt 
fall  down  and  worship  me!"  iBut  that  Divine  Spirit 
is  stronger  than  all  Germany  and  its  rulers;  and  "Get 
thee  behind  me,  Satan!"  is  the  keynote  of  this  great 
War.  The  Satan  of  ambition,  greed,  and  cruelty 
embodied  in  the  creed  of  Prussian  militarism  must  be 
driven  "hence" ;  and  it  is  for  this  holy  Cause  that  we 
and  our  Allies  are  fighting.  We  must  have  a  free 
world! — free  in  the  sense  of  highest,  purest  freedom 
— a  world  of  ideas,  thoughts,  and  deeds  built  up  on 
the  golden  law  of  Christ,  "Love  thy  neighbour  as  thy- 
self." As  a  statesman  has  so  nobly  expressed  it: 
"We  wish  the  nations  of  Europe  to  be  free  to  live 


64  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

their  independent  lives,  working  out  their  own  form 
of  government  for  themselves,  and  their  own  national 
development,  whether  they  be  great  nations  or  small 
States,  in  full  liberty.  This  is  our  ideal." 

An  ideal  worth  fighting  for — worth  dying  for! — 
this  "glorious  liberty  of  the  free !"  None  of  us  would 
grudge  life  or  fortune  to  attain  the  splendid  goal  in 
sight — a  radiant  vision  of  the  true  "Holy  City,"  where 
as  we  are  told — "the  nations  of  them  which  are  saved 
shall  walk  in  the  light  of  it,  and  the  kings  of  the  earth 
do  bring  their  glory  and  honour  within  it." 

POISONOUS    TEACHING 

Glory  and  honour  never  accompany  the  creed  of 
selfish  Materialism,  which  is  the  "Kultur"  of  Germany. 
What  a  miserable  man  was  he  who  wrote  down  in 
cold  blood  these  words:  "I  condemn  Christianity. 
To  me  it  is  the  greatest  of  all  possible  corruptions. 
I  call  Christianity  the  one  great  curse,  the  one  great 
intrinsic  depravity,  the  one  immortal  shame  and 
blemish  in  the  human  race!"  This  was  Nietzsche 
— poor,  sickly,  egoist,  Nietzsche!  He  died  mad — yet 
he  was  the  "guide,  philosopher,  and  friend"  of  modern 
Germany!  How  has  his  teaching  worked?  Let  the 
slaughtered  thousands  of  his  countrymen  on  the  battle- 
fields reply.  And  let  us  take  heed  that  we  in  our 
turn  be  not  infected  by  the  poisonous  breathings  of 
such  insanity!  Our  nation — our  Imperial  Britain — 
has  been  dangerously  far  along  the  road  to  similar 
madness — let  us  hope  devoutly  that  we  have  been 
pulled  up  in  time!  But — "we  have  done  those  things 
which  we  ought  not  to  have  done" — as,  for  example, 


THIS  AMAZING  WAE  65 

we  have  thrown  the  sneer  of  "Jingoism!"  contemptu- 
ously in  the  face  of  many  an  honest  patriot — and  now  we 
are  loud  in  our  expressions  of  wrath  and  astonishment 
at  the  "want  of  patriotism"  displayed  by  certain  tribes 
of  working  men  who  "strike"  for  more  pay,  indifferent 
to  the  country's  needs!  What  have  these  working 
men  been  taught  for  the  last  twenty  years?  Why, 
that  Money  is  the  only  god,  and  Self  the  only  master ! 
When  we  reproach  them  for  unpatriotic  conduct,  we 
should  reproach  ourselves  still  more  for  the  en- 
couragement and  applause  we  have  systematically 
given  to  every  new  or  revived  doctrine  of  selfishness 
and  materialism  that  ever  infected  the  world  with 
its  sickly  symptoms  of  decay.  Patriotism  is  a  mental 
and  spiritual  attitude — as  heroism  is — as  love  and 
faith  are.  Such  things  cannot  be  taught;  they  are 
the  result  of  ennobling  influences  brought  to  bear  on 
life  and  its  environment.  Considering  how  little  our 
educational  system  holds  of  such  subtle  and  delicate 
training,  we  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  the  splendid 
response  of  our  men  throughout  the  Empire  to  the 
call  of  "King  and  Country,"  and  of  the  real  national 
"grit"  which  in  every  Briton  underlies  his  surface 
show  of  levity  and  indifference. 

But  have  I,  as  a  woman,  nothing  to  say  of  the  war, 
save  in  its  ethical  aspect?  Oh,  yes!  I,  as  a  woman, 
could  say  much,  in  a  woman's  way.  Of  the  agony  of 
parting  from  men  dearer  to  us  than  life,  and  seeing 
them  disappear  behind  a  veil  of  impenetrable  silence 
for  weeks  or  months,  their  fate  or  fortune  all  unknown ! 
I  could  weep  all  day  and  night  for  the  cruel  loss  of 
young  and  gallant  lives  crushed  out  and  left  bleeding 
and  festering  on  the  awful  fields  of  contest — and  I 


66  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

long  to  speak  words  of  consolation  and  hope  to  the 
dear  women  who  wait  in  strained  suspense  for  news 
of  their  husbands,  fathers,  lovers,  and  sons!  I  know 
all  they  feel;  and  the  aching  throb  of  their  unuttered 
misery  strikes  on  my  own  heart  with  keenest  pain! 
But  with  all  the  sorrow  and  all  the  suffering,  I  would 
not,  if  I  could,  hold  back  one  man  from  taking  his 
share  in  the  noble  struggle  for  the  betterment  and 
future  peace  of  the  world!  One  can  die  but  once; 
and  "Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this — that  a  man 
lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends  1" 


"ALL  WE  LIKE  SHEEP" 
A  PEOPLE'S  PATIENCE 

(First  published  in  the  "Sunday  Times") 

THE  words  "people"  and  "popular,"  viewed  by  aca- 
demic dark-lanterns  of  literature,  are  opprobious  epi- 
thets. Any  person  designated  as  "popular,"  or  fav- 
oured by  "the  People,"  falls  at  once  outside  the  pale  of 
mutual-admiration  societies — ergo,  is  not  an  academic 
dark-lantern  for  the  blind  to  lead  the  blind,  so  that 
both  fall  into  the  ditch.  Yet  it  is  well  understood  that 
those  who  affect  to  despise  the  People  and  "popular" 
opinion  are  the  very  ones  most  influenced  by  both, 
inasmuch  as  not  one  among  them  but  knows  that  in 
the  long  run  the  People  alone  are  the  arbiters  of  national 
destiny.  Sometimes  it  hardly  appears  as  if  it  were 
so — yet  so  it  is.  Though  at  this  present  fateful  moment 
of  time  it  would  seem  that  the  People  of  the  British 
Empire  are  stricken  dumb.  They  are  a  voiceless 
multitude,  rendered  inert  by  the  knowledge  that  if 
they  speak  every  effort  will  be  made  to  silence  them, 
and  that  though  they  have  much  to  ask  they  will  not 
be  truthfully  answered.  For  they  are  only  "the  Peo- 
ple" ! — the  ruck  of  taxpayers — the  grist  that  goes  to  the 
mill! 

But  what  a  People!  Consider  them  as  they  are 
to-day,  straining  every  nerve  and  sinew  in  the  work 
necessary  for  the  carrying  on  of  a  wicked  and  barbarous 
world-war,  wherein  they  truly,  as  a  People,  gought 

67 


68  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

and  desired  no  part,  but  into  which  they  were  plunged 
unsuspectingly,  without  fair  warning  or  honest  prep- 
aration; and  now,  being  involved  in  the  struggle 
for  justice  and  right,  do  most  nobly  acquit  themselves 
— a  People  who  are  giving  up  their  sons,  their  life- 
blood,  their  All  for  which  they  have  worked  through 
years  of  anxious  toil — a  People  who,  when  their  little 
harmless  children  are  torn  to  shreds  by  enemy  bombs 
falling  from  hitherto  beneficent  skies,  are  told  by  a 
fatherly  Government  that  "no  material  damage  was 
done  by  the  raid" — a  People  who  are  cozened  with 
lies  and  flattered  by  false  news — a  People  who  in  the 
gallant  thousands  of  their  slaughtered  men  are  dying 
that  Britain  may  live ! — or,  shall  we  venture  to  say,  that 
Cabinet  Ministers  may  "take  their  salary  and  continue 
to  take  it!" — an  historic  utterance  which  will  ring 
through  the  vault  of  posterity  like  Nelson's  "England 
expects" — only  with  something  of  a  difference!  How 
long  will  this  splendid  People  endure  in  sheep-like 
patience  what  the  Press  justly  calls  "Waste  and  Mud- 
dle" in  high  places,  without  giving  vent  to  their  forcible 
but  natural  outburst  known  as  "popular"  feeling  ? 

We  read  in  one  of  the  columns  of  a  sane  and  non- 
party  daily  journal  the  following: — "No  one  can  say 
that  the  nation  is  satisfied  with  the  way  it  is  governed." 
This  expresses  in  one  clear  phrase  the  apparent  situa- 
tion. The  word  "apparent"  is  used  advisedly,  for  in 
many  spectral  things  of  recent  statesmanship  some  of  us 
feel  with  Macbeth  that  "Life's  but  a  walking  shadow." 
The  present  Government,  being  of  a  sometimes  severe, 
sometimes  indulgent  parental  character,  seems  to 
look  upon  the  public,  or  "the  People,"  as  a  sort  of 
promising  Child,  that  sits  quietly  waiting  to  be  told 


"ALL  WE  LIKE  SHEEP"  69 

things,  no  matter  whether  the  things  are  false  or 
true.  Wedged  in  a  nursery  chair  with  a  bar  across 
its  bulgy  waist  to  prevent  it  tumbling  out  on  the  floor, 
this  Child  is  supposed  to  smile  and  suck  its  finger 
all  day  long  in  a  state  of  blissful  belief  in  nonsense 
rhymes  and  fairy  tales.  It  is  a  wonderfully  good 
Child,  and  Papa  Government  is  pleased  to  find  how 
easily  it  can  be  played  with.  Its  simplicity  is  delight- 
ful! Things  printed  in  large  type  catch  its  eye  and 
tickle  its  fancy,  because  occasionally  (though  more  in 
the  past  than  in  the  present)  it  fancies  that  large  type 
means  something  of  national  importance.  But  with  all 
its  guilelessness  it  has  a  vast  amount  of  natural  intelli- 
gence, and  it  begins  to  understand  that  it  is  not,  and 
never  will  be,  allowed  to  learn  the  drift  of  Governmental 
tactics,  or  the  true  state  of  parties  in  politics.  It  is  haz- 
ily becoming  aware  that  it  is  kept  in  its  nursery  chair 
to  be  gulled,  not  to  be  enlightened.  In  happier  moments 
it  has  shown  that  it  likes  to  be  amused,  thrilled, 
startled,  horrified,  or  moved  to  indignation,  and,  so 
far  as  the  "Censor"  permits,  the  gagged  and  bound 
Press  tries  to  do  its  best  on  these  lines,  and  dances 
for  its  entertainment  as  well  as  a  poor  bear  in  chains 
can  dance,  though  growling  sotto  voce  all  the  while! 
iBut,  considered  as  a  Child,  the  public  is  not  thought 
fit  to  be  told  the  truth.  Its  opinion  on  national  affairs 
is  neither  sought  nor  wanted;  all  that  is  required  of 
it  are  Silence  and  Obedience.  These  it  gives,  with 
what  result?  Why,  as  Mr.  Asquith  said,  "Wait  and 
see!" 

Yet  surely  the  waiting  is  long  ?  "All  we  like  sheep 
are  gone  astray;"  but  possibly  we  have  been  led 
astray  more  than  we  have  gone  of  our  own  accord. 


70  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

All  peoples  have  a  certain  sheep-like  tendency;  they 
follow  a  lead.  Where  the  leader  goes  the  flock  goes 
likewise.  This  is  sometimes  set  down  as  evidence  of 
weakness,  but  with  the  British  people  it  marks  both 
duty  and  discipline,  obedience  to  law  and  order,  love 
and  maintenance  of  home  and  country.  Yet — let  us 
suppose  NO  leader!  That  is — NO  leader  capable  of 
leading  anywhere  save  into  quagmires  and  pitfalls  of 
"Waste  and  Muddle" ! 

"The  hungry  sheep  look  up  and  are  not  fed, 
But  swollen  with  wind  and  the  rank  mist 

they  draw, 
Hot  inwardly." 

Humour  has  it  that  on  our  East  Coast  the  inhabi- 
tants have  been  "prepared"  for  a  "German  landing," 
and  have  been  told  where  to  go  inland  as  "refugees." 
Whether  true  or  false,  such  a  report  should  never  have 
gained  currency;  the  word  "refugees"  should  never 
be  even  whispered  as  likely  to  be  applicable  to  British 
subjects.  Similarly  on  the  East  Coast  it  is  openly 
said  that  during  the  last  enemy  air-raid  two  Zeppelins 
were  "within  easy  gun-shot"  and  could  have  been 
brought  down,  but  that  our  anti-aircraft  men  were 
"forbidden  to  fire."  By  whom  ?  Ah !  There  we  touch 
upon  secrets  not  to  be  disclosed  by  Papa  Government 
to  any  inquiring  Child!  Though  when  half  a  secret 
comes  to  light  the  other  half  is  not  far  behind !  Let  us 
not  forget  the  warning  given  by  the  greatest  of  all 
Teachers : — 

"A  man's  foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own  household." 
It  is  idle  to  deny  that  there  are  traitors  in  our  own 


"ALL  WE  LIKE  SHEEP"  71 

camp;  men  of  position  and  influence  who  are  more 
pro-German  than  British — who  would  not  scruple  to 
pave  the  way  to  any  dishonour  provided  they  could 
serve  their  own  personal  ends.  Is  any  one  so  intel- 
lectually blind  and  bereft  of  common  sense  as  to 
suppose  that  even  with  certain  of  our  statesmen 
financial  interests  do  not  outweigh  their  patriotism? 
Time  is  a  merciless  revealer  of  facts,  and  in  its  record 
of  this  war  some  strange  things  will  be  written ! 

To  those  who  have  eyes  to  watch  and  brains  to 
understand,  the  advent  of  Mr.  Hughes,  Premier  of 
Australia,  is  a  wonderful,  almost  touching,  circum- 
stance. Here  is  a  Man  at  last ! — a  man  who  loves 
his  country  and  is  not  afraid  to  say  so — a  man  who 
appeals  to  the  right  spirit  of  the  nation  straightly  and 
truly,  with  courage  and  conviction.  "The  People" 
answer  to  his  voice :  that  "People"  whom  snobs  abhor ! 
Snobbery  is  apt  to  speak  of  the  fine  Younger  Race  of 
Imperial  Britain  as  "Colonials,"  with  a  touch  of  con- 
tempt, as  though  they  represented  something  small 
and  negligible,  instead  of  embodying  as  they  do  the 
future  power  and  stability  of  the  Empire.  This 
"Colonial"  Prime  Minister  shows  strength,  boldness, 
and  sincerity;  he  is  a  leader,  and  "All  we  like  sheep" 
are  disposed  to  follow  him,  if  he  can  show  us  a  way 
out  of  the  thickets  where  we  wander,  torn  and  bleeding. 
Pray  Heaven  he  be  not  wearied  by  specious  talk,  or 
repelled  by  still  more  specious  hypocrisy !  or  hampered 
and  discouraged  by  the  working  of  the  "wheels  within 
wheels"  which  move  with  such  secret  and  perplexing 
intricacy,  crushing  honest  effort  and  smothering  honest 
speech !  Surely  the  (British  people  can  be  trusted  to 
know  what  their  foes  know,  what  their  Allies  know, 


72  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

what  America  knows  ?  Are  they  alone  to  be  deceived  ? 
— even  into  purchasing  goods  "from  America"  which 
are  German?  Mr.  Hughes  needs  to  speak  yet  more 
forcibly ;  he  must  rouse  the  slothful  and  the  unthinking, 
and  tell  them  that  if  they  would  conquer  their  skilful 
and  insidious  Teuton  foe,  they  must  equally  conquer 
themselves;  and  that  when  the  markets  are  open  for 
British  labour,  British  labour  must  not  fall  back  in 
energy  or  stint  its  output.  Business  must  go  hand- 
in-hand  with  industry  and  quickness,  for  "the  race  is 
to  the  swift  and  the  battle  to  the  strong !" 

"All  we  like  sheep"  are  waiting,  not  for  compromise, 
but  for  conquest;  conquest  full,  splendid  and  lasting! 
The  "People"  are  patient  and  submissive  enough,  but 
they  seek  to  put  their  confidence  in  a  Government 
that  shows  confidence  in  itself.  If  they  feel  that  they 
cannot  do  this,  what  then?  Should  not  the  following 
words  of  Carlyle  be  remembered  ? : — 

"Urge  not  this  noble,  silent  People.  Rouse  not  the 
Berseker  rage  that  lies  in  them !  Do  you  know  their 
Cromwells,  Hampdens,  their  Pyms  and  Bradshaws? 
Men  very  peaceable,  but  men  that  can  be  made  very 
terrible !  Men,  who  like  their  old  Fathers  in  Agrippa's 
days,  have  a  soul  that  despises  death;  to  whom  death, 
compared  with  falsehoods  and  injustices,  is  light! 
Yes,  just  so  godlike  as  this  People's  patience  was, 
even  so  godlike  must  its  impatience  be !" 


WANTED— MOKE  WOMEN! 

AN    APPEAL 
(Written  for  the  London  "Daily  Chronicle") 

WOMEN  !  You  are  wanted  by  the  Nation !  In  the 
words  of  the  recruiting  posters  "Your  Country  calls!" 
It  calls  even  You — you,  who  for  centuries  have  been 
the  "weak  vessels"  of  man's  passion  and  humour,  are 
now  needed  to  strengthen  man's  hands  in  the  terrific 
business  of  a  world's  battle.  You  have  helped  them 
already;  but  you  must  help  them  still  more.  Now 
is  the  day  and  hour  to  prove  your  "undaunted  met- 
tle," and  not  only  your  mettle  but  your  generosity,  your 
magnanimity,  your  forgiveness!  For  in  peace  times 
man  has  denied  you  the  very  possession  of  ordinary 
common  sense;  he  has  thrust  you  out  of  intellectual 
and  academic  honours;  he  has  grudged  you  any  place 
in  art,  literature  or  science,  and  he  has  made  you  the 
butt  of  every  cynic,  comedian,  and  caricaturist  ever 
since  he  arrogated  to  himself  the  "everything"  of  life. 
You  have  been  and  are  the  grist  to  the  mill  of  the 
comic  press;  your  fathers  have  often  been  glad  to 
sell  you  in  the  marriage  market  to  the  highest  bidders ; 
your  lovers  have  played  with  you  and  deserted  you 
as  bees  the  flowers  whose  honey  they  have  stolen; 
your  husbands  have  often  been  faithless  and  perjured; 
and  in  certain  of  man's  legal  forms,  you  have  been 

73 


74  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

classed  with  "children,  criminals,   and  lunatics,"  but 
now ! — now,  you  are  wanted ! 

You,  so  often  despised,  are  prayed  not  to  return 
scorn  with  scorn;  you,  with  your  patience,  doggedness, 
and  strongly  determined  zeal  for  attainment,  are 
asked  to  come  forward  in  your  willing  thousands,  and 
let  the  men  go !  For  the  cry  is  "havoc ! — and  let  slip 
the  dogs  of  war!" — war,  bitter,  merciless,  bloody  and 
more  savage  than  the  cruelest  wars  of  ancient  days; 
war  in  the  air,  on  the  earth  and  under  seas — war  that 
is  as  stupid,  as  blind,  as  criminal  and  as  selfish  as  are 
all  the  acts  which  men  commit  when  they  have  so 
far  brutalised  woman  as  to  check  and  restrain  her 
highest  impulses,  kill  her  idealism,  obstruct  her  intel- 
lectual aspirations,  and  treat  her  as  the  slave  and 
tool  of  a  degrading  animalism.  Had  they  from  the 
first  dawn  of  civilisation  made  her  their  mental  and 
spiritual  equal,  by  this  time  there  would  have  been 
no  wars.  Her  love  would  have  constrained  and  edu- 
cated them,  her  instincts  guided  :them,  hetr  inborn, 
maternity  shielded  them  from  the  wrongs  their  ambi- 
tions and  jealousies  persuade  them  to  wreak  upon  each 
other.  Now,  in  the  very  midst  of  the  combat  which 
they  have  brought  upon  themselves,  they  are  caught 
within  a  black  cloud  of  almost  superhuman  disaster, 
where  but  one  ray  of  the  veiled  sun  shines  through — 
that  Divine  sense  of  Justice  for  which  all  true  peoples 
are  bound  to  fight  if  indeed  they  be  not  wholly  given 
over  to  the  devil  of  Materialism. 

In  this,  women  are,  and  must  be,  with  them;  they, 
who  from  the  legended  days  of  Eve  have  laboured 
under  the  sense  of  utter  injustice,  will  be  eager  to 
help  in  any  struggle  for  the  Eight  against  Might, 


•WANTED— MORE  WOMEN"!  75 

because  it  is  their  own  cause — the  very  essence  of 
their  own  existence. 

Eight  against  Might,  women!  Be  with  the  men 
now  in  their  manliest,  most  pressing  time  of  action! 
Forget  their  petty  carping  and  cavilling  at  "the  female 
element"  in  workmanship  and  endeavour;  laugh  at 
the  rough  and  childish  hands  that  beat  and  batter 
the  woman's  breast  with  all  the  petulance  of  spoilt 
children;  fling  every  other  thought  aside  but  the  will 
and  intent  to  help  them  on  to  victory!  Make,  and 
buckle  on  their  armour — let  your  hands  prepare  them 
for  both  attack  and  defence.  Nothing  nobler  will  you 
ever  find  to  do  than  this ! 

In  old  Arthurian  legends,  many  were  the  fair  women 
eager  to  buckle  on  the  armour  of  the  peerless  Knight 
Lancelot;  but  to-day  there  are  a  million  and  more 
Lancelots  in  the  field — young,  brave,  dauntless — 
heroes  all !  Arm  them,  women ! — and  by  arming  them, 
defend  them!  Thousands  of  you,  strong  and  willing, 
are  already  at  work — but  we  want  thousands  more! 
Even  you  "toy-women"  who  dance  half-nude  o'  nights 
at  restaurants  and  in  basement  saloons  of  "fashionable" 
hotels,  wreaking  a  sly  vengeance  on  men  by  poisonous 
lure  and  seduction,  even  you  can  be  brave  and  helpful 
if  you  will!  Give  up  your  foolish  sensualities,  and 
take  to  sturdy,  sensible  Work;  wash  the  paint  from 
your  cheeks,  the  dye  from  your  hair,  and  clothe  your- 
selves as  fit  women  who  mean  to  help,  and  not  to 
destroy  men. 

And  you,  too — you  who  turn  your  private  homes 
into  "Bridge  Clubs"  where  "officers  on  leave"  may 
become  members  "without  the  payment  of  a  fee" — 
rookeries,  where  silly  young  subalterns  are  "rooked" 


76  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

indeed,  of  every  penny,  losing  not  only  cash  but  honour 
— can  you  not  give  up  this  unprincipled  and  unwomanly 
"way  of  doing  business"  and  come  out  of  your  dens? 
You  have  hands  deft  enough  for  something  better 
than  "Bridge" — and  eyes  that  can  see  how  to  make 
shells  for  killing  the  enemy,  which  is  better  than 
studying  how  to  change  a  card  that  shall  cheat  a 
friend !  Put  these  ephemeral  nothings  of  an  ephemeral 
"society"  aside,  and  WORK!  Work  is  the  saviour  of 
both  body  and  soul ! 

I  admit  that  as  Women,  we  have  long  and  old  scores 
to  settle  with  the  men  who  have  denied  us  any  place 
in  their  counsels,  and  who  elect  of  themselves  to  treat 
us  merely  as  "toys"  and  fools.  We  shall  have  our 
revenge  upon  them,  but  not  now.  Now  is  the  time 
when  we  have  the  chance  to  show  our  ability,  our 
powers  of  organisation,  our  reasonableness,  our  cour- 
age, our  industry,  and  patience.  Let  us  not  fail !  The 
curse  of  the  Jew  who  wrote  Genesis  and  swore  to  Eve 
"I  will  greatly  multiply  thy  sorrow"  has  been  upon 
woman  ever  since  the  days  when  courteous  old  Abraham 
yoked  her  with  his  cattle  and  drove  her  with  his  sheep ; 
but  there  are  evidences  nowadays  that  the  modern  Abra- 
ham will  not  always  triumph,  even  though  every  true 
son  of  Israel  who  attends  religious  service  in  his 
synagogue  still  says  with  Pecksniffian  fervour: — 

"Blessed  art  thou,  O  Lord  our  God,  King  of  the 
universe,  who  hast  not  made  me  a  woman!"  (See 
Authorised  Jewish  Daily  Prayer  Book.) 

But,  despite  this  most  manly  thanksgiving,  it  is 
paramount  that  now,  whether  Jew  or  Gentile,  men 
want  the  women! — not  for  pleasure,  not  for  fooling, 
not  for  seduction,  not  for  betrayal,  but  for  work! 


"WANTED— MOKE  WOME^!  TY 

Man's  work  must  be  done  in  the  absence  of  men.  For 
men  must  be  set  free,  like  uncaged  wolves  and  lions, 
to  fly  at  the  throat  of  the  foe  and  strangle  him  for 
good  and  all !  Therefore,  man's  work  must  be  accom- 
plished by  women.  O  women,  be  glad  and  proud 
of  this!  Lady  Frances  Balfour,  who  has  a  brain 
sufficing  for  three  of  our  modern  statesmen,  has  recently 
written  on  "The  Discovery  of  Women,"  describing  it 
wittily  as  similar  to  "the  discovery  of  America  by 
Christopher  Columbus."  She  reminds  us  of  Lord 
Lansdowne's  "early  Victorian"  pronouncement  that 
"the  place  for  women  is  the  home."  Eut  the  worthy 
peer  forgot  to  mention  that  it  is  not  given  to  every 
woman  to  have  a  home,  or  to  run  the  cooking,  the 
child-bearing,  and  general  washing-up  business  for 
any  special  one  of  the  male  sex.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  are  thousands  of  women  who  not  only  earn  the 
money  to  make  a  home  and  keep  it,  but  who  also  have 
the  affectionate  unwisdom  to  keep  a  lazy  loafer  of  a 
man  also;  some  drone  who  finds  as  many  plausible 
excuses  for  idleness  as  he  does  for  living  on  the  woman's 
work.  He,  by  the  way,  is  generally  the  sort  of  fellow 
who  speaks  of  woman  with  sniggering  contempt,  and 
while  taking  her  earnings  with  the  left  hand  stabs  her 
in  the  back  with  the  right.  But  even  such  rogues  as 
these  have  to  go  forth  to  the  battle  to-day;  so  let  us 
not  grudge  the  buckling  on  of  their  armour  if  we  can 
inspire  courage  in  cowards!  Just  now,  when  omens 
and  portents  are  thick  in  the  air,  and  unnatural 
threatenings  hover  above  us  like  shapeless  spectres 
of  evil,  our  Ministers  and  statesmen  are  chattering 
for  all  the  world  like  the  feeblest  "patriarchs  of  the 
yillage"  that  ever  waggled  grey  pates  over  pipes  of 


78  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

tobacco.  They  who  complain  of  women's  "talk"  are 
talking  the  heads  of  the  nation  off  into  impatience 
and  fury;  let  women  not  talk,  therefore,  but  act! 
Come  to  work,  women  of  all  classes! — the  more  the 
better! — the  more  silently,  the  more  swiftly!  There 
is  a  great  climax  at  hand ;  the  "push"  is  about  to  begin. 
EVEBY  ABLE-BODIED  MAN  Is  NEEDED  TO  ENSURE 
VICTOBY.  Let  us  make  no  mistake  about  that !  Every 
woman  is  likewise  needed,  to  put  her  hand  to  the 
plough,  and  NOT  look  back.  Munitions  must  not  fail 
us.  Show  your  resolve,  brave  women  of  England, 
Scotland,  Ireland,  and  Wales,  and  nerve  your  slender 
hands  to  the  task  of  turning  out  the  weapons  of  attack 
and  defence  that  shall  flame  our  conquest  of  the  foe 
on  land  and  sea  and  in  the  air !  And — when  the  war 
is  over — when  "Peace  with  Honour"  shines  once  more 
above  us  like  a  glorious  rainbow  after  storm — shall 
we — we  Women  who  have  worked,  sink  to  our  old 
footing  of  debasement  and  exclusion  from  the  counsels 
of  men?  No!  To  paraphrase  a  famous  Asquith 
utterance:  "We  have  taken  our  place,  and  we  shall 
continue  to  take  it,  and  to  keep  it  1" 


THE  QUALITY  OF  MEECT 

AN  APPEAL  TO  AMERICA  FOR  SUFFERERS  IN  THE  . 
GREAT    WAR 

(Written  by  special  request  for  the  American  "Committee  of 
Mercy") 

THERE  is  no  greater  virtue  in  the  human  character 
than  mercy;  it  is  the  nearest  atribute  and  approach 
to  the  Divine  Perfection  towards  Whom  all  creation 
instinctively  moves.  We,  the  offspring  of  that  infinite 
Thought  and  Will,  are  still  far  away  from  such  sweet 
and  strong  attainment  of  power  as  can  find  infinitude 
of  joy  in  the  infinitude  of  Giving — but  we  can  in  some 
measure  bless  and  purify  our  brief  poor  lives  with  some- 
what of  that  everlasting  plenitude  and  beauty  by  an 
effort,  no  matter  how  feeble,  towards  a  God-like 
perpetuity  of  grace  and  pity.  The  golden  opportunity 
for  that  effort  is  Now  and  Here;  we  may  never  have 
so  great  a  chance  again.  For  Now  and  Here,  in  the 
fair  days  of  spring  and  summer,  when  singing,  blossom- 
ing Nature  breaks  out  in  its  Te  Deum  of  thankfulness 
for  yet  another  space  of  time  wherein  to  express  the 
gladness  and  glory  of  life,  we  are  confronted  with  the 
hideous,  ravaging  spectacle  of  War;  War,  in  its  most 
cruel,  pitiless,  and  appalling  shape — War,  to  the 
grimmest  death !  The  groans  and  shrieks  of  wounded, 
tortured,  and  dying  men  are  forced  upon  our  ears;  a 
monstrous  Devil  of  Self,  black  with  the  crimes  of 

79 


80  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

treachery,  lust,  and  murder,  stalks  abroad  seeking  what 
it  may  devour  of  faith,  freedom,  and  civilisation — 
a  demon  possibly  born  of  mankind's  own  neglect  of 
the  highest  ideals,  and  indifference  to  countless 
blessings  long  bestowed. 

And  the  most  evil  part  of  this  evil  visitation  is  that 
the  terrific  whirlwind  of  disaster  sweeps  over  the 
innocent  as  well  as  the  guilty,  and  men  of  valour  and 
worth  in  all  the  nations  now  at  war  with  one  another 
are  driven  by  the  force  of  a  barbarous  necessity  into 
the  agony  of  wounds  and  death  for  no  fault  of  their 
own,  but  for  the  mistakes  and  aggressions  of  their 
governmental  rulers.  They  are  as  falling  leaves  blown 
before  a  storm — as  smoke  before  fire — drifting  into 
darkness!  Yet  every  one  of  them  is  moved  by  the 
inspiration  and  love  of  liberty — by  the  sense  of  right 
and  justice — and  by  the  desire  to  help  in  doing  what 
is  good  and  true  for  the  larger  benefit  of  the  whole 
world.  And  in  this  sense  every  one  of  them  is  noble; 
each  life  is  worth  our  grateful  care.  We,  who  appeal 
for  them,  take  no  part  in  the  contest.  To  us  they  are 
all  our  brothers  in  humanity;  their  mothers,  wives, 
sisters,  children,  and  lovers  are  ours  also!  We  wish 
to  lift  them  in  our  helping  arms  out  of  the  blood  and 
mire  of  battle,  and  by  our  impartial  love  and  tender- 
ness, to  comfort  them  as  much  as  we  may,  and  relieve 
their  bitter  need. 

We  want  every  American  citizen  to  help  us  in  this 
great,  this  divine,  work;  for  so  best  shall  we  prove  the 
largeness  of  our  thought,  and  the  wideness  and  scope 
of  the  civilisation  of  the  Kepublic  and  it  ideals;  so 
shall  we  best  display  the  spirit  of  the  young  New 
World,  uprising  on  the  waters  of  this  deluge  like  an- 


THE  QUALITY  OF  MERCY  81 

other  ark  of  the  covenant,  sending  forth  the  dove  of  hope 
and  promise  to  those  who  are  struggling  for  life  in  the 
overwhelming  waves.  We  would  like  to  write  the 
noble  words  of  Man's  universal  Poet,  Shakespeare, 
across  the  doors  of  all  our  fellow-countrymen  upon 
whom  we  now  call  for  aid,  convinced  of  their  generous 
response : — 

"The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained ; 
It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath :  it  is  twice  blessed ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes ; 
'Tis  mightiest  in  the  mightiest ;  it  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown — 

.  .  .  We  do  pray  for  mercy ; 
And  that  same  prayer  doth  teach  us  all  to  render 
The  deeds  of  mercy." 

In  this  mind  and  mood  we  appeal  for  help:  for 
ungrudging,  tenderest,  quickest  help! — the  help  that 
brave  persons  would  instantly  give  if  they  saw  children 
drowning.  For  every  man  disabled,  sick,  or  deprived 
of  his  strength  is  as  a  struggling  child  in  the  flood  of 
adversity,  and  indeed  more  pitiful  than  a  child,  for 
the  child's  day  may  be  yet  to  come,  while  his  is  past. 
Moreover,  he  has  been  snatched  from  all  that  made 
life  pleasant  and  useful  to  himself,  to  fight  his  country's 
battle,  for  which  he,  personally,  is  not  responsible, 
but  which  he  enters  upon  for  the  sake  of  a  duty  which 
is  purely  heroic  self-sacrifice.  Let  us  therefore  accept 
this  free  gift  of  his  manhood  in  the  cause  of  Right  and 
Justice  and  Freedom,  with  no  less  cheerful  and  willing 
gifts  and  self-sacrifices  of  our  own;  let  us  give  and 


82  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

still  give,  in  the  all-beneficent  spirit  of  the  daily  sun- 
light which  pours  itself  out  unasked  over  the  fields 
and  pastures  to  bless  and  fructify  them!  And  let  us 
never  weary  of  giving!  From  every  man  and  woman 
of  the  teeming  population  of  the  United  States  we 
ask  a  donation  for  our  Holy  Cause — our  new  Crusade 
of  the  Lord's  Sepulchre — for  such  it  is,  inasmuch  as 
we  seek  to  raise  from  the  grave  of  silence  and  despair 
those  who  have  been  giving  the  best  of  their  lives  in 
suffering  the  horrors  of  this  terrific  War.  Be  the  gift 
small  or  great  it  will  add  to  the  sum  of  what  we  hope 
to  make  the  most  wonderful  and  munificent  gift  and 
act  of  homage  to  martyred  heroes  that  has  ever  been 
known  in  the  world !  We  are  a  Committee  of  Mercy, 
and  we  make  this  Appeal  to  all  the  merciful,  in  God's 
Name,  and  for  the  sweet  uplifting  of  a  Star  of  Hope 
in  the  darkness! 


STAKVISTG  BELGIUM 

AN  APPEAL 

( Written  "by  request  for  Mr.  Hoover's  "Belgium,  Relief  Fund"  amd 
ovrculated  through  the  United,  States  Press) 

"Six  million  of  people  are  on  the  verge  of  starvation 
in  Belgium!" 

Such  news  as  this  writes  itself  across  the  brain  in 
letters  of  fire!  Great  Goddess  of  Liberty,  think  of 
it!  You,  America! — you,  who  represent  that  goddess, 
with  the  light  of  an  ever-widening  glory  on  her  brow, 
think  of  this  shame  to  the  very  name  of  Freedom! — 
this  blot  on  civilisation — this  degrading  result,  as  it 
were,  of  our  long-boasted  intellectual  supremacy  and 
scientific  advancement!  Six  million  people  on  the 
verge  of  starvation! — through  no  fault  of  their  own, 
an  industrious,  peaceful,  marvellously  heroic  little 
nation,  deprived  of  its  honestly-earned  right  to  live, 
and  dragged  from  its  altars  of  prayer  to  weep  in  the 
dust  of  beggary  and  famine!  You,  America! — you, 
Star-crowned  States  of  Freedom  that  have  already 
done  so  much  and  are  doing  so  much  for  this  broken 
and  bleeding  victim  of  bitter  circumstance — you 
cannot  stay  your  hand  now! — you  cannot — you  will 
not!  You  will  do  more! — and  still  more!  You  can- 
not see  a  brave  nation  die  of  sheer  hunger! — it  is  not 

83 


84  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

in  your  heart  to  look  on  at  such  a  frightful  thing 
unmoved ;  therefore  you  will  listen  to  all  unprejudiced 
appeal — even  to  mine,  though  I  have  little  claim 
to  your  hearing  save  that  of  the  affection  freely 
given  to  me  hy  thousands  of  my  readers  in  your 
country — an  affection  gratefully  accepted  and  as 
warmly  reciprocated!  I  have  naught  to  do  with 
the  quarrels  and  murderous  onslaughts  of  men  filled 
with  blind  fury  and  lust  of  world-power;  all  that  I 
can  see  or  hear  is  the  sorrow  and  suffering  befalling 
those  who  are  innocent  of  any  quarrel — the  wives, 
the  mothers,  the  young  girls  and  boys,  the  little  children 
— the  helpless  and  bewildered  old  people!  Cruel 
famine  is  already  torturing  these  piteous  and  patiently 
enduring  souls,  on  whom  such  a  black  cloud  of  un- 
merited disaster  has  fallen  that  it  seems  as  if  it  would 
never  lift !  All  who  have  power  to  visualise  their 
unparalleled  distress  must  and  surely  will  take  every 
possible  means  to  soften  and  mitigate  the  horrors  of 
their  situation.  Generous  America! — you  have  done 
and  are  doing  much! — you  have  worked  and  are 
working  strenuously  to  relieve  the  burden  of  Belgium's 
heavy  affliction,  but  work  to  you  is  the  very  pulse  of 
your  large  life,  and  bigness  of  conception  in  noble 
deeds  is  your  breathing  power!  Therefore,  no  hesi- 
tation need  be  felt  in  asking  you  to  go  on  Working 
and  Doing  all  you  can  for  the  tortured,  half  dying 
people  of  a  devastated  country — a  people  whose 
magnificent  heroism  has  blazoned  itself  in  a  chronicle 
of  glory  for  the  wonder  of  the  future  years — a  nation 
that  has  faced  her  foes  unflinchingly  in  the  simple 
defence  of  her  freedom,  and  whose  noble  King,  a  hero 
to  the  manner  born,  has  not  uttered  one  undignified 


STAKVING  BELGIUM  85 

word  of  complaint  against  the  sudden  and  harsE 
calamities  meted  out  to  him  by  the  cruel  caprices 
of  a  cruel  destiny.  To  America  all  grand  things 
are  possible — America,  as  yet  aloof  from  combat,  can 
accomplish  what  other  nations,  involved  in  difficulties 
at  this  juncture,  can  barely  attempt:  America  can 
approach  Germany  with  the  ease  of  one  at  peace 
in  the  midst  of  strife,  and  can  with  humane  fore- 
thought and  certainty  secure  such  distribution  of 
food  supplies  to  the  Belgian  civil  population  as 
may  save  them  from  the  sufferings  which  now  con- 
front them  every  day.  This  is  what  America  can 
do  and  with  all  our  hearts  and  souls  we  pray  that  it 
may  be  quickly  done!  We,  in  Great  Britain,  are 
never  weary  of  helping,  to  the  best  of  our  ability, 
those  exiles  who  have  lost  their  homes  and  means  of 
livelihood — we  strive  to  make  their  hard  lot  less  bitter 
— and  to  one  and  all  we  accord  a  welcome  as  to  those 
of  our  own  blood  and  kindred.  But  we  are  at  war, 
and  though  our  Government  is  using  all  the  means 
available  to  prevent  the  threatening  disaster  of  millions 
of  non-combatants,  women,  children,  and  the  aged, 
being  sacrified  to  what  is  called  "military  necessity," 
such  means  are  not  enough,  being  perforce  obstructed 
by  the  difficulties  of  the  situation.  The  grim  idol  of 
Militarism  must  have  its  burnt  offerings — that  pitiless 
god  of  Battle  so  aptly  and  magnificently  described 
in  Lord  Byron's  CJiilde  Harold: — 

"Lo !  where  the  Giant  on  the  mountain  stands, 
His  blood-red  tresses  deep'ning  in  the  sun, 
With  death-shot  glowing  in  his  fiery  hands, 
And  eye  that  scorcheth  all  it  glares  upon ; 


86  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

i 

Restless,  it  rolls,  now  fix'd,  and  now  anon. 
Plashing  afar — and  at  his  iron  feet 
Destruction  cowers,  to  mark  what  deeds  are 

done; 

•  •  •  •  • 

All  join  the  chase,  but  few  the  triumph  share, 
The  Grave  shall  bear  the  chiefest  prize  away, 
And  Havoc  scarce  for  joy  can  number  their 
array !" 

Time  presses!  The  wolf  of  famine  is  at  the  very 
doors!  Our  hearts  grow  cold  with  terror  and  with 
pity  as  we  see  once  prosperous  and  happy  Belgium, 
a  land  of  prosperous  and  happy  people,  shadowed  by 
the  fearful  spectres  of  Hunger  and  Disease.  And 
while  we  do  all  we  can  and  all  we  may  to  keep  back 
these  menacing  destroyers  of  the  innocent,  we  clasp 
hands  across  the  sea  with  America,  and  look  to  her 
reasonableness,  her  boundless  compassion  and  benev- 
olence, for  wider,  more  continuous  help,  feeling 
that  she  can,  and  will,  most  assuredly  move  the 
German  administration  in  Belgium  to  see  to  the 
free  distribution  of  food,  and  to  guarantee  that 
such  distribution  shall  be  made  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Belgian  civil  population.  I  believe  the  Germans 
would  willingly  consent  to  this,  if  they  have  not 
already  consented,  for  it  cannot  be  even  to  their  own 
advantage  that  disease  should  be  sown  broadcast  in 
Belgium,  and  the  entire  industrial  population  decimated 
by  famine.  Indeed,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Whitlock, 
the  American  Minister  at  Brussels,  has  made  definite 
and  official  statement  to  the  effect  that  he  is  satisfied 
by  close  investigation  on  the  spot  that  not  an  ounce 


STAKVING  BELGIUM  87i 

of  food  sent  in  by  the  Commission  for  Relief  is  being 
appropriated  by  the  Germans.  It  should,  perhaps, 
be  considered  that  Germany  has  a  heart  somewhere! 
There  are  natural  emotions  in  the  mortal  composition 
of  a  German  as  well  as  in  a  Frenchman  or  a  Briton — 
differently  strung,  no  doubt,  and  differently  placed — 
but  no  man  of  any  nationality  whatsoever  is  made 
solely  of  "blood  and  iron,"  according  to  that  hackneyed 
catch-penny  phrase  which  seems  to  have  been  coined 
by  some  tall-talking  journalist.  I  am  not  one  of  the 
many  who  "thrill"  over  the  various  and  sensational 
reports  gotten  up  by  the  world's  press,  whether  such 
reports  emanate  from  Great  Britain  or  the  "Wolff 
Bureau."  I  am  as  doubtful  of  statements  circulated 
by  British  journalism  as  of  those  which  are  unblush- 
ingly  "made  in  Germany."  Each  newspaper  proprie- 
tor has  his  own  axe  to  grind,  and  not  always  does  hon- 
esty or  unsullied  patriotism  have  much  to  do  with  the 
grinding.  More  mischief  than  can  be  easily  calculated 
is  caused  by  irresponsible  journalists  who  are  allowed 
to  print  their  wholly  useless  and  unnecessary  personal 
opinions  on  some  great  world-crisis  in  leading  news- 
papers. When  Edward  the  Seventh  ascended  the  Brit- 
ish Throne  he  had  something  to  say  on  one  occcasion 
to  "the  gentlemen  of  the  Press,"  and  he  expressed 
the  hope  that  they  would  "do  their  best  to  foster  amity 
and  good-will  between  the  British  Empire  and  other 
nations."  That  the  "gentlemen"  have  not  so  acquit- 
ted themselves  is  a  sad  and  sober  fact;  and  in  these 
very  days  of  the  most  terrific  contest  the  world  has 
ever  seen,  many  of  them  show  an  unworthy  eagerness 
to  "work  up"  suspicion  and  ill-feeling  between  the 


88  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

combating  parties,  rather  than  to  hold  the  balance 
equably  and  with  dignity.  Insult,  cheap  sneers,  and 
vulgar  jesting  are  all  out  of  place  in  the  present  tre- 
mendous clash  of  conflicting  powers;  when  the  gods 
grasp  their  thunderbolts  it  is  no  time  to  listen  to  the 
chattering  of  apes.  And  when  we  are  told  by  the 
Irresponsible  Journalist  of  more  battle  horrors  and 
outrages  than  seem  humanly  possible  of  occurrence, 
it  does  us  good  to  learn  through  plain,  unvarnished 
fact  conveyed  in  simply-written,  straightforward  let- 
ters from  brave  men  at  the  front  and  in  the  "firing 
line,"  that,  left  to  themselves,  the  Germans  and  their 
Allied  foes  would  be  glad  enough  to  play  football 
together,  if  allowed,  like  healthy  schoolboys,  and  that 
even  as  it  is  they  give  each  other  cigarettes  across  the 
trenches,  proof  positive  that  when  not  acting  "under 
orders,"  they  are  human,  normal,  and  friendly,  and 
have  no  thirst  for  each  other's  blood.  I  quote  the 
following  from  the  letter  of  a  brave  young  Englishman 
serving  in  the  Third  Battalion  of  the  Rifle  Brigade : — 

"On  Christmas  morning  some  of  us  went  out  in  front 
of  the  German  trenches  and  shook  hands  with  them, 
and  they  gave  us  cigars,  cigarettes,  and  money  as 
souvenirs.  We  helped  them  to  bury  their  dead,  who 
had  been  lying  in  the  fields  for  two  months.  It  was  a 
strange  sight  to  see  English  and  German  soldiers  as 
well  as  officers  shaking  hands  and  chatting  together. 
We  asked  them  to  play  us  at  football,  but  they  had  no 
time.  I  got  into  conversation  with  one  who  worked 
at  Selfridge's  in  London,  aud  he  said  he  was  very 
sorry  to  have  to  fight  against  us," 


STABVING  BELGIUM  89 

Heading  this  and  various  other  letters  of  similar 
tone  from  men  in  the  very  thick  of  battle,  all  bearing 
ample  testimony  to  the  same  truth,  I  cannot  believe 
that  the  foe  is  so  utterly  a  monster  as  to  wish  to  see 
six  million  innocent  people  slowly  starved  to  death; 
for  such  a  dire  business  would  serve  his  purpose  little, 
while  strongly  intensifying  his  immediate  unpopularity. 
War  is  war;  and  if,  after  all,  civilisation  is  so  poorly 
advanced  that  war  must  still  play  its  barbarous  part 
in  the  world's  policy,  then  of  course  there  must  be 
exigencies  of  war  which  can  neither  be  ameliorated 
nor  minimised.  But  the  deliberate  starvation  of  six 
million  innocent  human  beings,  more  or  less  useful  to 
their  kind,  does  not  and  cannot  come  under  the  head 
of  "military  necessity."  Therefore,  it  should  be  the 
proud  privilege  and  duty  of  "neutrals"  to  do  all  that 
is  possible  to  soften  and  mitigate  the  fearful  conditions 
of  life  as  at  present  lived  in  unhappy  but  undaunted 
Belgium.  The  Commission  for  Belief,  acting  in  Lon- 
don, and  comprising  representatives  of  the  Spanish, 
Dutch,  and  Italian  Embassies  as  well  as  the  American, 
has  undertaken  a  task  which  is  almost  herculean.  Work 
as  they  will — and  there  is  no  pause  and  no  shirking 
— it  is  like  coping  with  the  waves  of  an  engulfing  sea. 
The  needs  of  the  people  become  more  urgent  every 
day  that  the  fierce  tug-of-war  grows  closer  and  more 
insistent:  Great  Britain  has  found  it  imperative  to 
stop  the  importation  of  grain  into  Belgium,  and  all 
this  is  coupled  with  the  fact  that  under  the  Hague 
convention  the  German  army  has  the  right  to  (re- 
quisition food  supplies,  and  is  not  bound  (save  mor- 
ally) to  feed  the  enemy's  population.  Nevertheless, 
common  sense  and  diplomacy,  as  well  as  mercy  and  jus- 


90  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

tice,  may  here  step  in  and  show  that  starvation  and 
sickness  may  breed  evil  among  the  Germans  themselves 
as  well  as  among  the  Belgians,  by  sheer  force  of  con- 
tagion— evil  of  a  kind  which  might  just  as  conveniently 
be  avoided.  Any  starving  nation  claims  instant  help 
and  compassion — the  sufferings  it  is  compelled  to  un- 
dergo are  too  awful  to  contemplate  with  any  degree 
of  calmness,  and  may  make  even  the  sternest  "Teuton" 
shudder.  Therefore,  if  any  of  us  can,  or  dare,  call 
ourselves  Christians  in  the  face  of  this  un-Christian 
warfare,  which  neither  religion,  science,  nor  "New 
Thought,"  spiritual  or  intellectual,  has  been  deep  or 
sincere  enough  to  hinder,  let  us  gather  up  the  fragile 
fragments  of  our  faith  and  try  to  piece  them  together 
in  one  heart-whole,  soul-strong  effort  to  save  from 
impending  misery  the  brave  little  nation,  rich  in  his- 
torical splendour  of  renown,  artistic  beauty,  and  in- 
dustrial progress,  whose  hard-working  people  have  de- 
sired nothing  but  peace  and  freedom  to  attend  to  their 
own  business  unmolested.  If  Christianity  is  worth 
anything  in  the  world  we  would  not  let  one  starving 
creature  go  unfed  from  our  doors — shall  we  leave 
six  million  to  such  an  undeserved  fate?  If  we  do, 
then  well  may  the  great  Powers  Invisible  chastise  us 
to  our  own  doom,  and  vengeful  Furies  whip  us  to  a 
hell  of  shame  and  oblivion !  Let  us  hold  out  rescue  at 
once  with  no  uncertain  hands,  and  let  our  practical 
aid  be  swift,  and  "of  good  measure,  pressed  down  and 
running  over."  In  all  such  deeds  of  love  and  sympathy 
and  charity  Great  Britain  and  America  have  led  the 
world  by  their  splendid  example.  There  has  been 
no  grudging,  no  paltry  personal  discussion  as  to  ways 
and  means.  For  every  good  and  worthy  cause  gold 


91 

pours  out  as  from  a  magical  horn  of  plenty ;  the  more 
the  demand,  the  greater  the  supply.  And  now  ?  Now 
— when  a  nation  starves !  Shall  not  a  veritable  argosy 
of  gold  make  its  way  across  the  miles  of  ocean  which 
divide  the  Fortunate  from  the  Unhappy,  and  bridge 
the  gulf  of  tears  and  sorrow,  striking  light  from  dark- 
ness, and  hope  from  despair  ?  This  can  be  so  if  Amer- 
ica wills  it !  Shall  not  a  radiant  Angel  of  Consolation 
appear  within  the  deepest  gloom  of  battle,  stretching 
out  hands  of  blessings  and  sustenance,  lifting  the  fallen, 
cheering  the  desolate,  soothing  the  dying,  and  shed- 
ding heavenly  sunshine  on  a  sorrow-clouded  land? 
This  can  be  so  if  America  wills  it!  Shall  not  the 
true  brotherhood  of  humanity  be  re-affirmed  and 
strengthened  in  the  rescue  of  one  nation  by  another? 
— in  the  succour  of  the  smaller  by  the  greater? — in 
the  full  acknowledgment  of  a  brave  fight  for  freedom 
by  a  power  that  is  more  than  free?  This  can  be  so 
if  America  wills  it ! 

"O  Liberty!  what  crimels  fare  committed  in  thy 
name !"  were  the  last  words  of  Madame  Roland,  heroic 
victim  of  the  French  Revolution — but  we  would  say: 
"O  Liberty!  what  love  is  perfected  in  thy  name!" 
when  starving  Belgium  is  fed ! — because  America  wills 
it!  Hear  my  appeal,  O  Star-crowned  States  of  Free- 
dom!— hear  me! — hear  all! — Let  no  pleading  voice 
pass  you  by  tm-heard!  For  the  brave  Nation  that  is 
dying  must  live! — shall  live! — if  America  wills  it! 


"THE  TIME  OF  OUE  LIVES" 

OUE  WOMEN  IN  WAB 
(An  answer  to  an  American  misjudgment) 

"You  women  over  here  seem  to  be  having  the  time  of 
your  lives!"  said  an  American  friend  to  me  the  other 
day.  "You  lunch  and  dine  at  all  the  restaurants  with 
whatever  men  'on  leave'  you  can  pick  up;  you  go 
with  them  to  music-halls  and  theatres  and  supper 
dances,  and  'peacock'  about  in  extravagant  clothes  as 
if  there  were  no  such  thing  as  a  war  on !" 

My  American  friend,  being  a  man,  took,  as  is  often 
the  case  with  men,  rather  a  one-sided  view  of  things ; 
but  what  he  said  is  true,  and  I  fully  endorse  his 
statement.  I  am  proud  and  eager  to  assure  our  Ameri- 
can sisters  "on  the  other  side,"  that  most  surely  we  are 
having  "the  time  of  our  lives" !  ~No  doubt  about  it ! 
But,  do  you  understand,  you  women  of  New  York, 
Boston,  Chicago,  and  every  other  great  and  growing 
city  in  the  United  States,  what  that  "time"  exactly  is  ? 
Are  you  able  to  measure  it  and  give  it  your  true  under- 
standing? I  think  not!  It  is  easy  to  sit  as  spectators 
in  your  vast  amphitheatre  of  across  ocean  and  watch 
from  comfortably-cushioned  points  of  view  the  struggle 
in  the  world's  arena  between  Men  and  Beasts ;  the  con- 
test is  terrific,  revolting,  yet  sensational — and  pro- 
vides "thrills"  for  those  who  are  not  actively  engaged 
in  combat.  But  for  women  whose  husbands,  lovers,  and 

92 


"THE  TIME  OF  OUK  LIVES"  93 

sons  are  being  mauled  and  crushed  and  torn  by  the 
teeth  and  claws  of  ravening  and  unreasoning  brutes, 
it  is  a  spectacle  demanding  "nerve,"  to  say  the  least 
of  it.  This  "nerve" — this  power  of  valiant  endurance 
is  what  Great  Britain's  women  are  displaying  in  "the 
time  of  their  lives" — the  time  of  loss  and  sorrow, 
danger  and  difficulty;  and  I  doubt  whether  the  true 
history  of  this  indomitable  pluck,  cheerfulness,  pa- 
tience, and  resignation  will  ever  be  rightly  known! 
They  have  been,  and  still  are — magnificent! — a  glory 
and  an  honour  to  their  sex !  "The  time  of  their  lives" 
will  be  recorded  in  the  country's  annals  as  among  the 
most  sublime  things  witnessed  and  proved  in  a  century. 
They  have  grudged  no  sacrifice,  no  pain;  they  have 
sent  their  best  and  dearest  to  the  great  slaughter- 
house of  Flanders  with  smiles  on  their  lips,  restraining 
the  sobs  of  agony  in  their  hearts — they  have  not  shrunk 
in  one  single  instance  from  any  clear  duty,  however 
difficult  or  apart  from  their  own  ways  of  life.  Where 
men's  places  have  needed  to  be  filled,  they  have  filled 
them  most  ably,  conscientiously,  and  loyally,  without 
grumbling  or  complaint;  and  though  some  of  their 
male  employers,  too  old  to  fight,  but  never  too  old  to 
"bully,"  have  occasionally  made  things  uncomfortable 
for  them  by  coarse  words  and  coarser  actions,  they 
have  held  their  peace  for  the  sake  of  their  men  at  the 
front,  and  are  content  to  bear  with  insolence  and 
insult  in  silence  rather  than  interrupt  the  routine  of 
the  work  they  have  undertaken  in  order  to  "release" 
the  men,  such  "release"  often  meaning  for  themselves 
sheer  heart-break  and  desolation.  Oh,  yes! — we  are 
having  "the  time  of  our  lives" ! — a  time  such  as  this 
world  never  saw,  and  which  we  all  pray  it  may  never  see 


94  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

again! — a  time  when  wives  toil  in  munition  worts  to 
"release"  their  husbands,  knowing  that  such  "release" 
may  mean  their  own  widowhood — when  mothers  part 
bravely  from  their  sons,  conscious  that  they  are  going 
into  such  a  hell  of  barbarous  slaughter  as  never  was 
known  even  in  the  days  of  the  Roman  butcher,  Nero 
1 — when  girls  "release"  their  lovers,  and  bend  their 
own  slight  bodies  to  the  heavy  toil  usually  undertaken 
by  the  physically  stronger  sex,  and  say  nothing  of  their 
own  fatigue,  suspense,  and  sorrow!  There  are  thou- 
sands of  such  splendid  women  to  set  against  the  few 
hundreds  who  "din©  at  restaurants"  and  "peacock 
about,"  and  even  these  latter  are  not  so  abandoned 
to  self  and  vainglory  as  they  seem.  True,  there  are 
women  who  push  their  own  ends  under  cover  of  pro- 
fessing charity,  and  are  never  so  happy  as  when  they 
see  their  own  portraits  in  the  lower  grade  press — 
this  class  has  always  existed  in  every  country  and  will 
no  doubt  continue  to  exist.  And  there  are  plenty  of 
female  "decoys"  for  men  "on  leave" — who  dine  and 
dance  at  public  restaurants  in  wn-dress  that  would  dis- 
grace a  savage;  but,  again,  these  have  always  existed, 
and  will  probably  continue  to  exist.  The  good  Bishop 
of  London  seems  to  have  only  just  discovered  them, 
which  is  a  great  testimony  to  his  guilelessness.  Then 
there  is  a  particularly  unfortunate  section  of  the  pic- 
torial press  which  seeks  to  attract  the  public  eye  by 
indecent  pictures  of  half-nude  "women  of  the  town" 
— dancers,  actresses,  and  titled  dames  who  are  equally 
at  one  in  a  voluntary  outrage  of  morals  and  modesty, 
and  though  the  public  Censor  might  very  well  put  a 
stop  to  these  offensive  illustrations,  he  is  apparently 
one  of  those  "blind  who  will  not  see."  But  you,  our 


"THE  TIME  OF  OUR  LIVES"  95 

sisters  in  America,  do  see,  and  rashly  pass  judgment 
accordingly!  Then  there  are  the  ridiculous  fashion- 
plates  used  as  advertisements  in  newspapers  and  in 
the  catalogues  of  leading  drapers,  which  represent 
women  as  the  merest  caricaturess  of  womanhood,  look- 
ing more  like  cockatoos  and  chimpanzees  than  feminine 
humanity,  in  costumes  presented  as  "the  fashion,"  but 
which  no  decent  woman  ever  dreams  of  wearing.  All 
this  is  "the  scum  of  the  pot"  which  rises  to  the  top, 
thereby  becoming  noticeable — but  it  does  not  represent 
the  actual  Womanhood  of  Britain — the  great,  Silent 
Force  of  patient,  brave,  unwearying  workers.  These 
are  scarcely  heard  of,  for  they  give  no  chance  to  the 
tongues  of  Rumour,  and  the  press  cannot  get  at  them 
either  for  portraits  or  personalities.  As  noble  and 
exclusive  as  that  noble  and  exclusive  lady,  the  Duchess 
of  Portland,  whose  good  works  are  legion,  they  make 
no  clamour — they  are  too  busy  to  contend  with  the, 
already  opposing  masculine  spirit  which  is  beginning  to 
demand  of  them,  "Are  you  going  to  dare  do  our  work 
after  the  war?"  The  main  fact  with  them  is  not  the 
Afterwards  but  the  Now — the  resolve  to  hold  together 
the  working  necessities  of  Commerce  and  Agriculture 
in  Britain — Now ! — in  time  of  need — thinking  nothing 
of  themselves  or  of  the  pleasant  little  vanities  and 
frivolities  dear  to  them  in  days  of  peace,  but  bracing  up 
all  their  energies  to  oppose  trouble  with  valour,  pa- 
tience, and  faith.  No  women  in  all  the  world's  his- 
tory have  ever  risen  to  confront  a  world's  crisis  so 
splendidly  and  cheerfully  as  the  British — except  the 
French!  French  women  are  superb  in  their  magnifi- 
cent patriotism! — superb  in  their  steadfast  hate  of  the 
foe.  We  are  often  told  that  the  British  do  not  "hate" 


96  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

enough. — and  that  if  we  were  better  haters  we  should 
be  better  lovers.  It  may  be  so,  but  the  general  tendency 
among  us  is  more  to  despise  than  to  hate.  A  "Tommy," 
for  example,  would  hardly  think  it  worth  while  to 
"hate"  anybody.  Good-nature  is  the  Briton's  strong 
point;  good-nature  and  a  cool,  easy,  "happy-go-lucky" 
disposition.  These  virtues  or  failings  led  him  into  the 
German  traps  whereby  he  was  losing  his  hold  on  the 
commerce  of  the  world.  He  could  not  be  brought  to 
believe  that  his  progressing  friend  "Fritz"  could  stab 
him  in  the  back  while  he  stood  unarmed  and  unready 
for  attack;  and,  even  now,  when  he  is  up  and  full 
face  to  the  combat,  his  good-nature  still  moves  him 
to  sing  and  whistle  along  the  fire-swept  path  to  death 
or  glory,  and  to  stop,  regardless  of  self,  among  a  hail 
of  bullets  to  give  first  or  last  aid  to  a  dying  foeman. 
Is  such  conduct  foolish  or  sublime?  A  higher  verdict 
than  ours  must  give  answer!  In  any  case  we  know 
and  may  take  it  for  certain  that  the  "Silent  Force"  of 
women  who  are  "having  the  time  of  their  lives"  is  a 
great  lever  to  lift  the  men  up  to  the  utmost  pitch  of 
their  native-born  courage  and  resolution,  and  to  help 
them  meet  Death  as  a  fellow-soldier,  taking  the  hand  of 
the  grisly  skeleton  as  fearlessly  as  children  might  run 
to  look  at  some  attractive  novelty.  For,  back  of  us  all, 
men  and  women  alike,  there  is  a  strong  Faith  which  our 
enemies  have  lost.  They  talk  of  "Unser  Gott"  as  glibly 
as  though  the  Almighty  were  solely  exercised  in  serv- 
ing their  whims  and  passions — but  though  our  deepest 
religion  be  not  of  the  Churches,  we  cannot  so  trifle 
with  the  Holy  Name!  We  are  too  conscious  of  "The 
Truth  that  makes  us  free,"  and  in  the  Cause  for  which 


"THE  TIME  OF  OUR  LIVES"  97 

we  and  our  Allies  are  fighting,  we  can  best  pray  with 
Shakespeare's  Harry  the  Fifth: 

"O  God  of  Battles !    Steel  my  soldiers'  hearts ! 
Possess  them  not  with  fear ;  take  from  them  now 
The  sense  of  numbers !" 

For  our  Cause  is  the  Cause  of  Eight  and  Justice, 
Freedom  and  Civilisation.  We  are  not  out  for  personal 
gain,  either  in  gold  or  territory.  We  have  enough  of 
both  and  to  spare.  We  endure  "the  time  of  our  lives," 
and  its  wanton  and  wicked  slaughter  of  the  innocent, 
because  we  are  fighting  for  all  Humanity  that  it  may 
never  be  so  savagely  tortured  again.  We  are  fighting 
for  a  surer,  more  impregnable  Civilisation — one  that 
cannot  be  pushed  back  a  thousand  years  by  the  ferocious 
and  blind  stupidity  of  any  temporary  autocrat.  Is  it 
possible  that  there  can  be  people  of  even  average  intelli- 
gence in  the  States  and  elsewhere  that  do  not  entirely 
understand  this  ?  The  British  intervention  in  the  das- 
tardly attack  of  Germany  on  Belgium  and  France 
was  to  protect  and  defend  unoffending  and  peaceable 
peoples,  and  in  this  defence  of  others  we  have  found 
Ourselves.  We  were  beginning  to  lose  ourselves  among 
the  dreary  verbosities  of  theorists  and  agnostics  and 
atheists  and  all  the  swarm  of  destructive  insects  which 
accompany  a  setting-in  of  decadence;  we  have  dis- 
covered once  again  our  true  spirit,  our  old  and  valiant 
mettle,  our  pride  and  love  of  country,  and  all  the 
mighty  heart  of  resolution  which  has  made  the  British 
Empire  what  it  is.  And  we  cannot  but  feel  that  the 
young  and  strong  heart  of  America  beats  in  tune  with 
our  own — that,  despite  financial  interests  and  pro-Ger- 


98  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

man  intrigues,  Eight  and  Justice  prevail  with  the  men 
and  women  of  the  United  States  as  with  the  men  and 
women  of  this  "little  isle  set  in  a  silver  sea" — and  that 
they  very  well  know  that  they,  too,  must  benefit  by  the 
clearance  from  the  world  of  a  monstrous  Militarism 
whose  ethics  are  opposed  to  every  principle  of  Chris- 
tian truth  and  human  equity.  A  great,  strong  Faith  is 
at  the  back  of  us  all — a  Faith  which  believes  in  the  ut- 
most triumph  of  Good  over  Evil — and  this  it  is  which 
inspires  the  women  of  Great  Britain  and  gives  them 
strength  to  part  with  their  nearest  and  dearest,  so 
that  they  endure  "the  time  of  their  lives"  without  flinch- 
ing, knowing  that  they  who  endure  to  the  end  shall  be 
saved  I 


THE  WOELD'S  GEEATEST  NEED 

AN   APPEAL   TO    THE   SANITY   OF    GOVERNMENTS 
'Tis  a  mad  world,  my  masters. — J.  TAYLOR 

WHAT  is  the  most  urgent  need  of  the  world?  What 
would  stop  war  and  ensure  peace?  What  would  push 
forward  all  that  is  highest  and  best  in  our  civilisation, 
and  cause  men  and  women  to  realise  that  they  are 
not  created  to  brutalise,  degrade,  and  destroy  each 
other  in  sordid  struggles  for  place  and  power,  but  that 
their  purpose  in  living  at  all  is  to  educate  and  uplift 
each  other  to  noble  aims  and  ends?  The  great  Need 
stares  us  in  the  face  at  every  point  of  social  law  and 
political  government;  it  clamoujrs  in  our  ears  and 
pushes  its  problem  to  the  front  of  every  question. 
What  is  it  the  world  demands  in  every  form  of  policy, 
legislation,  and  statesmanship?  A  simple  thing — one 
would  imagine  it  to  be  a  natural  thing — yet  almost  un- 
discoverable  in  any  period  of  history — Sanity !  Sanity, 
which  means  health  of  both  brain  and  body;  Sanity 
which  recognises  self  only  as  a  portion  of  the  greater 
Whole ;  Sanity  which  knows  instinctively  that  mankind 
must  obey  the  laws  of  God  or  else  suffer  extinction; 
Sanity,  which  combines  with  reason  and  judgment  a 
comprehensive  sympathy  for  every  unit  of  the  human 
race  in  its  struggle  upward  from  the  brute  period  to 
the  highest  realisation  of  intellectual  and  spiritual 
worth. 

99 


100  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Judged  from  this  point  of  view  one  may  doubt, 
when  reading  history  from  its  known  or  traditional 
beginnings,  whether  Man,  taken  in  bulk,  has  ever  been 
entirely  sane.  Something  of  the  freak,  the  monster, 
or  the  only  half  human,  seems  to  taint  his  blood, 
displaying  itself  in  follies  and  excesses  of  the  most 
violent  or  pitiful  nature,  which,  when  dispassionately 
narrated  in  the  chronicles  of  centuries,  show  him  to 
be  a  crank  or  a  fool  at  the  very  time  when  wisdom 
might  most  be  expected  of  him.  Some  few  individuals, 
notable  examples  to  the  race,  have  stood  out  in  splendid 
isolation  as  sane  and  self-sacrificing  teachers  and  help- 
ers of  humanity;  but,  in  the  aggregate,  from  the  very 
beginnings  of  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  "progress" 
down  to  the  present  day,  the  desire  to  trample  upon 
each  other  and  wallow  in  blood  and  slaughter  seems 
to  prevail  with  more  force  over  the  minds  of  men  than 
the  clearest  arguments  of  reason.  Nevertheless  this 
desire  is  an  insane  impulse,  and  if  we  had  any  true 
perception  of  the  laws  of  right  and  wrong,  we  should 
check  it  in  its  very  first  beginnings.  Any  man,  any 
body  of  men,  seeking  to  violate  the  peace  and  progress 
of  the  world  should  be  dealt  with  by  combined  inter- 
national forces  of  the  Law  and  Medicine,  not  by  armies 
— and  should  either  be  shot  like  mad  dogs  as  incurable 
and  dangerous,  or  imprisoned  for  life  in  asylums  for  the 
criminally  insane.  No  one  man  or  group  of  men  can 
be  considered  in  sound  mental  condition  if  their  actions 
imperil  the  existence  of  their  fellow-creatures. 

Certain  natural  laws  have  been  discovered,  and 
proved  by  physiologists  who  make  the  subject  their 
study,  as  to  persons  who  may  marry,  and  those  for 
whom,  through  consanguinity  or  inherited  disease,  mar- 


riage  is  nothing  less  than  a  crime.  In  the  "arranged" 
unions  of  royal  houses  these  laws  have  been  deliberately 
set  aside  with  deplorable  results.  The  mad  dog  of 
Europe,  William  of  Hohenzollern,  is  the  diseased  prod- 
uct of  several  royal  intermarriages,  where  human  con- 
venience and  popular  complaisance  ignored  the  divine 
natural  law;  and  as  this  law  is  one  which  prevails 
"unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation"  we  have  now  a 
Monster- Abortion  of  conscienceless  cruelty  raging  loose 
in  the  world,  who  ought  to  have  been  smothered  in  his 
cradle.  There  are  plain  rules  of  health  and  sanity 
which  are  for  ever  being  disobeyed  by  civil  and  social 
convention;  but  because  they  are  so  disobeyed,  we 
must  not  flatter  ourselves  that  they  do  not  recoil  in 
vengeance  upon  the  rebels.  The  Designer  of  this  won- 
derful and  complex  universe  is  proved  to  be  a  vastly 
Mathematical  Intelligence;  everything  great  or  small, 
down  to  a  grain  of  dust,  is  balanced  to  the  nicety  of  a 
hair's  breadth,  and  do  what  we  will  or  may,  we  cannot 
alter  the  balance.  Our  futile  efforts  in  such  directions 
merely  display  insanity,  of  the  type  of  an  uncontrolled 
temper  in  a  child  which  screams  itself  hoarse  because 
it  cannot  reach  fruit  on  a  tree  too  high  for  it  to  climb. 
If,  therefore,  we  would  have  sane  peoples,  with  sane 
rulers  to  govern  them,  we  should  see  to  it  that  they 
are  born  and  bred  sanely,  according  to  the  laws  of 
health  and  mentality  which  have  existed  among  the 
"lower"  animal  creation  since  the  foundation  of  the 
world.  Every  crime  is  an  insane  impulse.  No  health- 
ily organised  brain  could  contemplate-  the  murder  of  a 
single  individual,  much  less  the  wholesale  slaughter  of 
millions. 

The  Almighty  has  for  ever  had  one  gate  of  Heaven 


102  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

set  ajar  for  humanity  to  peer  within  and  push  open 
a  little  wider  with  each  succeeding  generation — a  gate 
opening  to  that  fair  pleasaunce  of  wisdom  and  beauty 
which  we  call  Science.  A  great  logician  has  written 
"The  basis  of  all  science  is  the  immutability  of  the 
laws  of  nature."  Would  that  we  remembered  that  "im- 
mutability" more  often!  Yet,  while  sane  pioneers  in 
medicine  and  surgery  are  patiently  and  devoutly  fol- 
lowing as  best  they  can  these  complex  but  beneficent 
"laws  of  nature"  for  the  saving  of  human  life  and  the 
healing  of  human  injuries,  the  insane  section  of  the 
community  have  been  and  are  still  employing  all  their 
distorted  energies  of  brain  and  hand  in  fiendish  in- 
genuities of  invention  for  weapons  of  war  that  shall 
destroy  human  life  more  quickly  than  it  can  be  saved. 
And  while  thus  engaged,  other  insane  persons  shout 
in  the  press  and  the  market  place  wild  warnings  about 
"declining  birth-rate,"  reproaching  unhappy  women  for 
their  lack  of  duty  in  not  producing  sons  for  some  fu- 
ture slaughter!  The  Car  of  Juggernaut  was  scarcely 
worse  than  this!  To  appeal  for  a  multitude  of  births 
during  the  making  of  a  multitude  of  guns,  which  mow 
down  the  flower  of  young  manhood  like  corn,  is  an 
insult  to  bereaved  mothers,  making  their  vocation  ap- 
pear less  valuable  than  that  of  the  beasts  of  the  field. 
For  why  should  they  bring  forth  and  rear  sons,  only 
that  they  may  go  to  their  deaths  at  the  bidding  of 
this  or  that  Government  ?  The  very  proposition  is  an 
exhibition  of  stark  staring  lunacy,  combined  with  a 
brutish  lust  of  degradation  and  reckless  destructiveness 
which  could  only  emanate  from  deficient  mental  or- 
ganisms. 


THE  WORLD'S  GREATEST  NEED       103 

SANITY  IN  RELIGION 

Here  we  touch  the  vital  centre  of  the  whole.  On 
no  subject  does  man  ever  show  himself  so  violently 
crazed  as  on  religion.  The  gods  of  the  past,  created 
by  his  fanatical  imagination,  were  more  or  less  the 
deified  types  of  his  own  vices,  or  symbols  of  such 
virtues  as  he  feebly  strove  to  attain,  but  he  had  no 
real  faith  in  their  power  to  aid  or  to  circumvent  his 
designs.  Yet,  in  lunatic  fashion,  he  behaved  as  if  he 
thought  them  omnipotent,  though  conscious  all  the 
while  of  the  silly  comedy  he  was  playing  with  himself. 
Now,  after  two  thousand  years  of  the  pure  and  beauti- 
ful Gospel  of  Christ  which  teaches  how  "god-in-man" 
might  be  realised,  a  lesson  to  which  has  been  added 
the  strong  affirmation  of  Science,  emphasising  the  fact 
that  "God  is  a  Spirit,  and  they  that  worship  Him 
must  worship  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth,"  Man  still 
plays  the  crazed  crank  with  dogma,  and  refuses  to 
realise  the  Actual  Alive  Intelligence  behind  creation, 
which,  from  the  delicate  fluff  of  a  small  bird's  feather 
or  moth's  wing,  up  to  the  height  of  solar  systems, 
works  in  perfection  and  balance  to  the  exactitude  of 
a  pin's  point.  This  living,  loving  Presence  the  dogma- 
tists wellnigh  ignore,  preferring  to  move  in  their  own 
small  orbit  of  creed  rather  than  risk  the  broader  spaces 
of  assured  glory.  The  narrow  spirit  of  self-absorption 
not  only  limits  their  outlook,  but  holds  them  bound 
in  a  condition  of  deplorable  egotism,  like  that  of  an 
"unco  guid"  Scotch  body  who,  after  accepting  many 
useful  kindnesses  from  a  friend  to  whom  she  "gushed" 
affection,  changed  her  sentiments  as  soon  as  a  slight 
difference  arose  between  them,  and  with  jnuch  unctuous 


104  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

piety  let  it  be  known  that  she  was  obliged  to  leave 
that  once  "precious"  friend's  name  "out  of  her  pray- 
ers" !  The  monstrous  conceit  that  could  imagine  God 
capable  of  noticing  a  name  left  out  of  a  Scotchwoman's 
prayers,  or  out  of  any  prayers  whatsoever,  would  be 
ludicrous  if  it  were  not  so  pitifully  expressive  of  bar- 
baric ignorance — and  who  shall  count  the  thousands  of 
similar  narrow  mind  and  heart  who  have  a  lurking 
hope  that  heaven  is  for  them  alone,  and  that  their 
"dear  friends"  will  all  be  left  out  in  the  cold  I 

Sanity  in  religion  would  mean  sanity  in  everything. 
A  sane  acceptance  of  the  actual  Motive  Force  of  things, 
— a  Force,  tenderly  embodied  to  us  by  Christ's  teach- 
ing as  the  "Our  Father"  of  us  all,  would  do  more  for 
our  souls  and  bodies  than  all  the  Churches;  an  intelli- 
gent study  and  comprehension  of  the  minute  and  care- 
ful work  of  creation,  showing  us  that  nothing  is  wasted, 
nothing  lost — but  that  all  tends  in  an  onward  direction 
to  "some  far-off  divine  event,"  would  help  us  to  find 
and  keep  the  balance  of  our  brains.  We  must  be 
brought  to  realise  that  Evil,  persisted  in,  works  its 
own  recoil  on  the  evil  doers,  whether  they  be  nations 
or  individuals — the  movement  of  things  being  always 
towards  Good.  "I  and  my  Father  are  one" — said  Our 
Lord,  for  which  He  was  stoned.  The  failure  of  the 
Churches  is  the  insanity  of  dogma,  which  has  sup- 
planted the  sanity  of  Christ. 

BEAIN    BALANCE 

The  brain,  as  all  physiologists  know,  is  a  complex 
and  marvellous  mechanism — so  amazing  in  its  move- 
ments, so  miraculous  in  the  result  of  these  movements. 


THE  WOELD'S  GREATEST  NEED      105 

that  no  scientist  has  yet  been  able  entirely  to  probe 
its  powers  or  foresee  its  progressive  possibilities.  Some 
there  are  who  declare  that  all  impulses,  good  and 
evil,  are  primarily  started  by  the  brain — others,  more 
subtly  accurate,  aver  that  the  brain  itself  is  impelled 
or  "pushed"  to  action  by  an  influence  stronger  than 
itself,  mysterious,  unnameable,  but  nevertheless  all- 
potent,  which  we  call  "free-will,"  but  which  may  more 
justly  be  termed  "free-spirit" ;  that  is  to  say  the  "free" 
and  deathless  force  which  the  Creator  gives  to  each 
human  being  to  use  according  to  the  laws  He  has 
ordained,  but  which,  turned  aside  from  the^se,  can 
be  debased  as  surely  as  exalted.  This  untrammelled 
power  is  bestowed  on  every  man  and  woman  born 
into  the  world,  and  its  mode  of  action  is  frequently 
swayed  by  impressions,  sometimes  pre-natal,  and  some- 
times by  the  "afterwards"  of  early  surroundings.  If 
the  material  brain  of  a  child  is  sound  and  healthy, 
the  impulses  which  move  that  brain  should  be  sane 
and  pure — but,  unhappily,  through  the  physical  men- 
tality of  irresponsible  persons  who  recklessly  take  the 
divine  responsibility  of  parenthood  upon  themselves, 
it  often  chances  that  a  brain,  perfectly  organised  in 
the  matter  and  placement  of  its  cells,  conceives  ideas 
and  actions  which  are  little  short  of  devilish  in  their 
ingenuity  of  evil  and  mastership  of  cunning.  How 
is  this  ?  It  is  not  the  forty  pairs  of  nerves  which  con- 
vey sense  and  feeling  to  the  brain  that  are  guilty  of 
criminal  suggestion — they  aye  merely  the  telegraph 
wires  on  which  messages  are  sent.  iBut  Who  is  the 
sender?  Who  or  what  is  responsible  for  the  messages 
which  prompt  wicked  deeds?  We  feel  that  we  do  not 
have  to  inquire  as  to  the  source  of  Good,  inasmuch  as 


106  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

that  Divine  Manifestation  is  everywhere  about  us.  One 
thing,  however,  is  certain — that  evil  propensities  cor- 
rupt and  obstruct  the  blood-vessels  of  the  brain  and 
distort  its  images  and  impressions,  so  that  its  powers 
become  perverted — and  instead  of  creating  helpful  work 
for  the  welfare  of  humanity  -it  dwells  on  what  shall 
harm  and  terrorise  and  destroy.  But  we  must  and 
should  realise  the  fact  that  an  obstructed  brain  is  a 
more  or  less  insane  brain.  Its  channels  do  not  run 
clear.  From  these  blocked  passages  inhuman  thoughts 
are  generated  as  weeds  from  slime;  and  fiendish  or 
vicious  ideas  take  shape  and  action  like  noxious  ver- 
min bred  from  a  stagnant  pool.  Therefore,  if  we 
would  have  regard  to  sanity  in  the  race,  it  should  be 
our  business  to  see  to  the  "Brain-Balance"  of  our  so- 
cial, ethical,  political,  and  religious  conditions,  and 
eliminate  from  our  lives  such  things  as  tend  towards 
incipient  lunacy.  "Crazes"  for  this  or  that  particular 
person  or  fashion  are  painfully  common,  and  always 
ludicrous,  accompanied  as  they  frequently  are  by  a 
didactic  obstinacy  resembling  the  pompous  assertive- 
ness  of  poor  madmen  who  conceive  themselves  to  be 
exiled  kings.  Men  and  women  run  about  jabbering 
and  gesticulating  on  the  "preciousness"  of  this  or  that 
form  of  art,  when  it  is  utterly  opposed  to  truth  and 
nature,  and  in  this  sort  of  spirit  they  have  held  up 
the  "Futurists"  and  "Cubists"  as  something  worthy 
to  be  looked  at,  much  as  a  child  might  hold  up  for 
admiration  a  dirty  rag  doll.  Insane  themselves,  they 
seek  to  lead  others  into  the  chaos  of  their  own  insanity, 
and  this  trend  towards  a  warped  mentality  has  of  late 
displayed  itself  in  all  the  arts,  such  as  the  sculpture 
of  Epstein,  the  crotchets  and  quavers  of  De  Bussy? 


THE  WORLD'S  GREATEST  NEED      107 

and  the  large  output  of  revoltingly  sexual  fiction  and 
coarse  verse.  The  "pose"  of  a  supreme  and  scornful 
egotism  marks  these  devotees  of  sham  and  ineptitude, 
and  though  they  may,  in  mere  numbers,  be  a  negligible 
quantity,  they  spread  infection,  just  as  one  fever- 
stricken  person  may  infect  a  whole  neighbourhood. 
From  an  unsanitary  mental  outlook  no  good  can  come, 
and  the  moral  filth  in  which  Germany  has  wallowed 
for  years  has  so  poisoned  the  German  brain  that  it 
can  devise  nothing  but  treachery  and  evil.  It  is  a 
brain  that  is  choked  with  miasma — and  it  may  be 
centuries  before  it  is  cleansed  and  restored  to  sanity. 

Meanwhile  let  us  pull  the  beam  out  of  our  own  eye 
before  we  try  to  cure  other  nations'  blindnesses.  We 
have  been  mad  enough  in  our  disregard  of  honest 
warnings — we  are  pretty  mad  still.  We  have  vied  with 
the  old-time  "cities  of  the  plain"  in  reckless  orgies  of 
vice  and  intemperance ;  but  the  great  War  has  pulled  us 
back  on  the  road  to  ruin,  and  it  seems  we  may  be 
given  another  chance.  Let  us  begin  then  by  a  good 
try  for  Sanity.  In  the  first  place  let  us  make  such 
laws  for  those  who  marry  as  shall  compel  them  to 
submit  to  a  searching  health  examination,  so  that  union 
may  be  forbidden  to  the  unfit.  A  diseased  man  or 
woman  should  no  more  be  allowed  to  mate  than  any 
other  diseased  animal.  The  animals  arrange  this  them- 
selves, in  a  much  more  common-sense  way  than  hu- 
mans. They  only  rear  healthy  progeny.  It  is  for  us 
to  do  the  same,  and  to  see  to  it  that  the  mentality  of 
children  is  safeguarded  and  set  on  a  sound  basis.  This 
cannot  be  done  by  forcing  education  at  too  early  an 
age,  or  perplexing  young  brains  with  difficulties  of 
learning  almost  too  much  for  their  elders  to  grasp.  The 


108  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

brain  in  childhood  records  impressions  as  a  disc  pre- 
pared for  the  phonograph  records  sound,  and  the  circles 
marked  on  it  in  early  days  are  seldom  or  never  ef- 
faced. Therefore  care  must  and  should  be  taken  that 
such  impressions  are  of  the  best.  Corporal  punish- 
ment should  never  be  resorted  to  as  a  means  of  training. 
A  blow  to  a  sensitive  child  frequently  means  a  lasting 
contempt  for  the  parent  or  teacher  who  inflicts  it,  and 
excites  a  rebellious  spirit  towards  life  in  general.  A 
vicious  impulse  or  an  act  of  crass  stupidity  does  not 
necessarily  mean  inherent  wickedness  or  obstinacy — it 
only  shows  that  there  is  some  "clog  on  the  wheel"  in 
the  brain,  which  a  day's  fasting  and  cooling  medicine 
may  remove.  At  any  rate,  such  a  method  of  cure  is 
better  worth  trying  than  the  rod  and  angry  threats 
which  have  no  real  effect  on  "insane  impulse."  Some- 
times— indeed  often — a  physical  defect  in  the  brain 
is  the  cause  of  evil  thoughts  and  evil  deeds,  as  in  the 
recent  case  of  a  man  whose  warped  mind  always  tended 
towards  murder  and  mutilation,  and  who  was  found 
to  have  a  thickening  of  a  portion  of  the  cranium  which 
pressed  heavily  upon  certain  of  the  cells  within.  The 
operation  of  "trepanning"  was  performed  by  a  surgeon 
who  was  scientifically  interested  in  the  case,  with  the 
result  that  the  previously  insane  criminal  is  now  a 
person  of  perfectly  normal  type  and  harmless  disposi- 
tion. Who  that  knows  the  history  of  the  German 
Kaiser's  ancestry  can  doubt  that  his  brain  has  been 
more  or  less  diseased  from  his  birth,  and  that  with 
his  approach  towards  the  "grand  climacteric"  the  in- 
cipient lunacy  bred  within  him  has  become  more  ac- 
tive and  less  capable  of  control !  No  sane  man  would 
have  acted  as  he  has  done,  for,  prior  to  the  war,  the 


THE  WOELD'S  GREATEST  NEED      109 

trade  of  Europe  was  practically  in  Germany's  hands, 
and  in  the  interests  of  his  country  a  sane  man  would 
have  realised  the  fulness  and  value  of  such  a  conquest, 
peacefully  obtained  without  the  sacrifice  of  millions  of 
useful  lives. 


THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  CHARACTER 

The  brain  is  affected  by  "insane  impulse"  in  the 
same  way  as  the  digestion  is  affected  by  improper 
food.  An  error  in  diet  will  cause  pain  and  general 
malaise — so  will  an  evil  influence  or  suggestion  dis- 
organise the  brain  cells  and  create  obstacle  and  con- 
fusion within  their  marvellous  formation  and  move- 
ment. A  child,  from  earliest  years,  needs  watching — 
and  those  who  have  that  duty  to  perform  should  be 
carefully  selected  persons  who  are  particular  as  to 
general  surroundings.  A  child's  mother  or  nurse  should 
be  a  refined  woman  of  soft  voice  and  gracious  manners, 
able  to  control  her  own  moods  as  well  as  the  moods 
of  her  young  charge,  so  that  distinct  "character"  may 
be  formed  and  insisted  upon.  A  "no"  should  be  abso- 
lute— a  "yes"  equally  so.  Character  "tells"  from  the 
very  beginning.  The  youngest  child  understands  a  dis- 
cipline of  firmness  conjoined  with  sweetness  and  affec- 
tion— the  smallest  boy  has  an  ineffable  contempt  for 
weakness  and  vacillation.  From  the  "character"  dis- 
played by  their  elders,  children  draw  their  own  con- 
clusions. An  impatient,  hot-tempered  father  makes 
callous,  indifferent,  more  or  less  contemptuous  sons  and 
daughters.  Children  invariably  despise  and  laugh  at 
"temper"  in  their  fathers  and  "fuss"  in  their  mothers. 
And  the  mocking,  jeering  spirit  of  scorn  is  a  spirit 


110  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

tnat  grows  with  years,  and  makes  of  the  person  it 
dominates  an  often  spiteful  and  vicious  influence  in 
society,  creating  mischief  and  rejoicing  in  the  unhappi- 
ness  of  others.  One  sweet,  strong,  independent  char- 
acter unconsciously  forms  the  nucleus  of  many  others, 
while  one  soured  malcontent  infects  a  whole  community. 
We  have  only  to  consider  the  "character"  of  Prussian 
militarism — how  from  two  or  three  blatant  and  brag- 
gart egotists  it  has  spread  its  infection  through  an 
entire  people,  till  the  brain  of  the  whole  German  na- 
tion has  become  clogged  with  thick  and  poisonous 
thought  and  has  been  driven  by  "insane  impulse"  to 
the  committal  of  the  greatest  crime  in  history.  If  we 
would  avoid  such  crimes  for  the  future  we  must  see  to 
it  first  that  the  race  is  healthily  and  sanely  born, 
and  secondly  that  "character"  is  the  only  basis  on 
which  all  education  must  be  founded,  or  it  will  be 
merely  a  house  of  cards,  toppling  at  a  breath.  And 
the  corner-stone  on  which  "character"  itself  must  be 
reared  is  a  high  and  reasonable  faith  in  the  Supreme 
Cause  of  all  creation,  coupled  with  an  earnest  and 
devout  following  of  the  divine  order  in  which  that 
great  Force  at  the  back  of  all  things  has  ordained  this 
Universe  to  move. 

SCIENCE   AND   RELIGION 

Religion  is  not  what  the  Churches  would  have  us  ac- 
cept as  such.  It  is  not  man-made  dogma.  So  far  as 
Christianity  is  concerned,  the  saying  is  true  that  "There 
never  was  but  one  Christian  and  He  was  crucified." 
No  more  uplifting  faith  was  ever  taught  than  that  of 
Christ;  but  it  has  never  been  spiritually  realised  or 


THE  WORLD'S  GREATEST  NEED      111 

fully  practised.  Read  Christ's  own  words  in  the  New 
Testament,  and  then  ask  where  shall  we  find  His  com- 
mands obeyed?  In  some  exceptional  cases  there  have 
been  saintly  lives  and  saintly  deeds  resulting  from 
the  sincere  and  devout  application  of  the  Gospel — 
but  in  dealing  with  this  question  we  have  to  think  of 
mankind  in  general,  not  in  an  individual  sense.  This 
horrible  war  with  its  riot  of  blood  and  carnage  is 
a  damnatory  answer  to  professing  Christianity.  Man 
has  made  of  himself  his  own  god — and  in  the  God  as 
revealed  or  explained  in  all  the  conflicting  religious 
"formulas"  he  has  ceased  to  believe.  Faith  of  any 
kind  must  be  supported  by  reason.  And  Science  is 
the  door  to  the  highest  heaven  of  faith.  Every  new 
discovery,  every  new  aid  to  man's  well-being  on  the 
planet,  is  a  fresh  proof  of  God.  It  has  taken  twenty 
centuries  and  more  for  us  to  begin  learning  the  wonders 
of  electricity,  though  the  miraculous  force,  with  all 
its  component  and  divergent  radiations,  was  with  us 
always.  It  may  take  us  twenty  times  twenty  million 
centuries  to  discover  God — nevertheless  He  is  with  us, 
notwithstanding  our  intellectual  blindness  and  lack  of 
Spiritual  perception.  Science  is  our  peep-hole,  through 
which  we  may,  even  now,  glimpse  Him,  but  which  in 
time  to  come  will  not  only  be  our  window,  but  our 
open  door,  through  which  we  may  approach  Him,  full- 
eyed,  without  fear.  But,  to  arrive  at  this,  we  should  re- 
member that  Science,  like  every  other  power  bestowed 
upon  us,  must  be  used  sanely;  and  through  "Free- 
Will";  that  is  to  say,  we  may  bend  its  force  to  either 
good  or  evil.  It  is  good  when  we  use  it  for  the  ad- 
vantage of  humanity — it  is  evil  when  we  make  of  it 
an  agent  to  injure  or  destroy  humanity.  The  scien- 


112  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

tist  who  employs  his  abilities  to  discover  means  where- 
by he  may  remedy  disease,  eliminate  pain,  and  assist 
his  fellow-men  to  the  betterment  of  life,  is  that  "good 
and  faithful  servant"  who,  when  God  comes,  He  finds 
watching — but  the  scientist,  equally  brilliant,  who  de- 
votes himself  to  the  invention  of  fiendish  instruments 
of  destruction  and  death,  whereby  he  may  make  the 
wholesome  earth  a  terror,  the  sea  a  snare,  and  the  sky 
a  scourge,  is  a  warped  intellectuality,  moved  by  "insane 
impulse,"  which,  combined  with  creative  activity,  makes 
of  him  a  devil  rather  than  a  human  being.  Let  any 
thoughtful  person  try  to  realise  himself  engaged  day 
and  night  on  the  work  of  evolving  some  instrument  of 
death  more  cruel  than  any  old-time  torture,  will  he 
maintain  that  such  persistent  concentration  on  the 
means  of  killing  can  mould  him  into  a  worthier  or 
nobler  individual?  But  reverse  the  position  and  let 
him  imagine  himself  absorbed  in  finding  out  remedies 
for  pain  and  suffering,  aids  to  happier  and  more  useful 
living  for  mankind  in  general,  will  he  not  admit  that 
however  difficult  his  work  may  be  of  accomplishment, 
he  knows  within  himself  that  he  is  striving  for  con- 
structive good,  not  destructive  evil,  and  that  his  science 
is  an  output  of  clear  sanity  which  must  bring,  not  only 
deep  contentment  to  his  mind,  but  also  the  conscious- 
ness that  his  energies  are  moving  in  harmony  with  the 
Divine  Spirit  of  law  and  order. 

This  is  the  true  and  only  religion — to  bring  one's 
soul  into  unison  with  the  infinite  beauty  and  reason 
which  prevail  everywhere  in  Nature.  And  the  Chris- 
tian Faith,  could  it  but  be  relieved  from  ecclesiastical 
dogma,  is  the  truest  symbol  we  have  of  our  spiritual  and 
immortal  destiny,  for  it  teaches  the  possible  god-in-man 


THE  WOELD'S  GEEATEST  NEED      113 

which  should  be  born  through  the  purity  of  woman. 
Carry  the  symbol  further,  and  we  find  the  Crucifixion 
of  Love  through  selfishness  and  hypocrisy — yet  another 
step,  and  we  are  shown  the  Eesurrection  from  the 
grave — "the  Light  of  the  World"  released  from  the 
stone  and  seal  of  priestcraft,  breaking  free  from  the 
cerements  of  prejudice,  and  ascending  to  the  Father 
of  us  all !  Search  as  we  may  through  all  the  religions 
of  the  world,  we  shall  never  find  a  grander,  simpler 
"Symbol"  of  eternal  truth  than  this — the  faith  preached 
by  Christ.  But  it  must  be  divested  of  its  clerical  en- 
cumbrances. Like  a  glorious  ship  that  has  lain  too 
long  in  harbour,  it  must  be  cleansed  of  weed  and 
barnacle  and  launched  unhindered  into  the  open  sea. 
And  those  who  man  the  ship  must  be  free  from  self- 
interest,  from  "cranks"  and  meddlesome  theories  and 
formulas — briefly,  they  must  be  sane,  with  the  great 
sanity  of  nature  and  nature's  immutable  laws.  With- 
out this  neither  Eeligion  nor  Civilisation  can  endure. 
They  can  only  be  crazed  attempts  to  build  that  "house 
upon  sand,"  of  which  we  have  been  told  that  "the  rain 
descended  and  the  floods  came  and  the  winds  blew 
and  beat  upon  that  house,  and  it  fell;  AND  GEEAT  WAS 

THE  FALL  OF  IT!" 


HAS  CHRISTIANITY  FAILED  ? 

HAS  Christianity  failed  ?  ]STo !  Men  and  women  have 
"failed,"  but  not  Christianity.  The  very  question  is  to 
my  mind  terrible  and  blasphemous — one  of  the  many 
terrible  and  blasphemous  utterances  common  to  the 
Press  and  current  literature  during  recent  years, 

It  is  a  shame  to  a  professingly  Christian  nation  that 
such  a  question  should  be  asked  at  all.  The  greatest, 
purest  religion  in  the  world  can  have  no  weight  with 
mere  apes  of  humanity,  who  practise  the  most  appalling 
hypocrisy  in  front  of  the  sacred  altars,  and  assume  to 
believe  in  and  to  obey  Christian  precepts,  while  in- 
dulging to  excess  in  their  own  private  and  particular 
selfish  vices  and  passions,  without  restraint  and  with- 
out regret. 

The  nations  have  mocked  at  God  and  disobeyed  His 
laws.  It  is  the  old  story  over  again.  "The  earth  was 
corrupt  before  God,  and  the  earth  was  filled  with  vio- 
lence." Christ  said,  "Why  call  ye  Me  Lord,  Lord,  and 
do  not  the  things  which  I  say  ?" 

Christianity  is  based  on  two  great  laws — love  to 
God  and  love  to  one's  neighbour;  can  any  one  say  that 
modern  civilisation  fulfils  these  demands? 

We  have  only  to  note  the  fearful  corruption  in 
Church  and  State,  in  every  phase  of  politics  and  busi- 
ness, and  the  unspeakable  vices  which  pollute  so-called 
"society,"  and  poison  our  literature  and  art,  to  realise 

114 


HAS  CHRISTIANITY  FAILED?         115 

that  the  "cities  of  the  plain"  were  no  whit  worse  than 
our  own,  and  merit  no  less  than  they  a  rain  of  fire. 

But  Christianity  itself,  as  taught  by  Christ,  towers 
above  all  "failure,"  despite  the  apathy  and  hypocrisy 
of  thousands  of  its  professing  priests,  who  in  many 
instances  are  as  selfish  and  flagrant  blasphemers  as  the 
worst  atheist  and  iconoclast  in  tmchristianised  and  bru- 
talised  Germany. 

Without  that  heavenly  faith  which  helps  us  towards 
the  attainment  and  reverence  of  the  Divine  in  all 
things,  what  has  Germany  become?  More  cruel  and 
callous,  more  lost  to  every  sense  of  decency  and  honour 
than  the  savages  of  prehistoric  times,  she  is  sowing 
the  wind  and  will  reap  the  whirlwind. 

But  let  us  take  care  that  we  do  not  join  her  in 
her  rush  towards  annihilation.  Political  shams  and 
treacherous  intrigues  would  drag  us  thither — "TJnfaith 
in  aught  is  want  of  faith  in  all."  If  a  weak  section  of 
men  and  women  fail  to  find  their  souls,  Christianity 
itself  has  not  "failed,"  nor  will  it  fail ;  because  it  is  the 
divine  expression  of  the  unconquerable  Spirit  of  Truth. 

The  most  brilliant  House  of  Lies  ever  built  by  man's 
careful  stupidity  falls  into  dust  at  the  lightest  breath 
of  a  truth  based  on  eternal  equities.  The  microbes 
in  a  rotting  cheese  may  deny  the  existence  of  the  sun 
because  they  do  not  see  it,  and  may  ask,  "Has  the 
daylight  failed?"  But  the  sun  pursues  its  glorious 
course,  lightening  the  visible  universe. 

So  it  is  with  Christianity.  And  those  who  presume 
to  ask  "Has  it  failed  ?"  are  but  the  microbes  in  the  rot- 
ting cheese. 


SNOOKS'S  OPINION- 
SNOOKS  is  one  of  those  entertaining  persons  who  makes 
a  point  of  giving  an  "opinion"  on  everything.  From 
the  Almighty  downwards  he  has  what  he  calls  a  "calm 
common-sense  view"  on  all  subjects  in  heaven  or  on 
earth,  and  his  chief  object  in  life  is  to  get  that  "calm, 
common-sense  view"  well  to  the  front,  so  that  the  poor, 
purblind,  uneducated  public  who  seldom  have  any  time 
to  indulge  in  "views,"  and  still  less  chance  to  express 
them,  may  understand  that  there  yet  exists  one  truly 
great  man  of  sane  and  sober  judgment — namely, 
SNOOKS. 

Before  the  War  he  used  to  write  letters  to  the  Times 
on  the  urgent  necessity  there  was  for  complete  dis- 
armament. In  fervent  language  he  pressed  the  reduc- 
tion of  naval  expenses.  He  was,  and  is  still,  under  the 
impression  that  the  Times  is  still  as  it  was  in  ages 
past — a  British  Thunderer ;  an  Oracle  which  manifested 
itself  as  "I  am  Sir  Oracle ;  and  when  I  open  my  mouth 
let  no  dog  bark."  He  forgets  that  journalism  is  now 
only  a  monstrous  Syndicate,  not  expressive  of  thoughts, 
but  of  Shares  and  Dividends,  and  that  if  the  Times 
were  what  it  once  was,  it  would  not  publish  any  letter 
from  Snooks.  But  Snooks  is  "fixed"  in  his  opinions. 
He  admits  no  change  in  the  course  of  things — an  old- 
established  institution  must,  without  argument,  remain 
always  as  such,  and  must  not  totter  to  decay.  When 

116 


SNOOKS'S  OPINION 

decay  sets  in,  despite  Snooks,  he  firmly  denies  its  pos- 
sibility. 

"Nonsense!"  he  says — "D'ye  think  I've  come  to  my 
time  of  life  without  knowing  better  than  that  ?  Teach 
your  grandmother!" 

Just  at  the  time  when  he  wrote  letters  about  naval 
expenses  and  disarmament,  one  or  two  other  "Snooks's" 
popped  up  and  replied.  He  was  not  pleased  with  their 
replies,  as  they  opposed  him.  So  he  took  up  that  Scheme 
of  Idiots,  the  "Channel  Tunnel,"  and  wasted  a  deal  of 
ink  in  seeking  to  point  out  what  a  fine  thing  it  would 
be  to  spend  needless  millions  on  a  tunnel  which  the 
Richborough  Ferry  makes  superfluous.  His  arguments 
fell  a  little  flat,  and  he  was  for  a  short  period  reduced  to 
writing  about  "the  first  primrose  in  my  back  garden" 
— and  "I  hope  some  of  your  readers  have  noticed  the 
very  early  arrival  of  the  wasp  this  year,"  to  the  indul- 
gent Daily  Mail.  But  he  never  has  found  quite  enough 
to  do  in  the  way  of  letter-writing  to  satisfy  his  ambi- 
tion. There  are  not  enough  wrongs  for  a  Snooks  to  set 
right — people  of  place  and  position  do  not  make  enough 
mistakes  for  a  "Snooks"  to  correct.  Daily  and  nightly 
he  is  consumed  by  the  desire  to  see  his  name  in  print, 
and  his  craving  sometimes  leads  him  to  look  up  familiar 
Latin  quotations,  more  or  less  applicable  to  the  political 
situation,  and  to  send  them  (with  the  usual  signed  let- 
ter) to  certain  small  newspapers  whose  position  and 
reputation  make  the  chance  of  their  editor's  classical 
scholarship  doubtful.  To  see  himself  in  print,  no  mat- 
ter how  or  when,  is  Snooks's  joy.  And  now  that  the 
war  is  blowing  the  dust  of  human  affairs  in  all  direc- 
tions, Snooks  has,  as  some  press  reviewers  say:  "come 
into  his  own."  He  finds,  so  he  states  with  engaging 


118  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

modesty,  that  if  HE  had  been  consulted,  there  would 
have  been  no  war. 

"There  was  that  Algeciras  business,"  he  says  vaguely, 
not  knowing  in  the  least  what  he  is  talking  about.  "It 
should  all  have  been  settled  then." 

He  knows  Viscount  Grey  personally,  so  he  says,  but 
— "he  never  would  take  my  advice" — and  as  for  Kitch- 
ener— ah ! — "That's  a  man  who  had  immense  possibili- 
ties!— immense! — but  he  was  obstinate — he  wouldn't 
listen  to  a  word  I  told  him !" 

Here,  impressed  with  the  reflections  awakened  by 
this  melancholy  fact,  he  writes  a  letter  to  the  Times — 
a  letter  which  happens  to  be  just  the  proper  quantity 
of  "stuff"  to  fill  up  the  end  of  a  column :  so  it  goes  in. 
No  one  pays  any  attention  to  it.  Snooks  shows  it  to 
his  friends  at  the  club — they  smile,  half  read  it,  don't 
understand  it  and  don't  want  to  understand  it.  After 
some  difficulty  he  gets  an  old  deaf  gentleman  to  look 
at  it. 

"What's  this,  what's  this !"  says  the  old  deaf  gentle- 
man nervously — "Something  happened  to  our  Allies!" 

"No,  no!"  roars  Snooks — "It's  a  letter! — a  letter 
I've  written;  I,  myself — to  the  Times  about  Kitch- 
ener !" 

"Ah,  I  wouldn't  do  it  if  I  were  you !"  mildly  replies 
the  old  gentleman,  with  one  hand  up  to  his  ear — "We 
don't  know  anything  about  his  work " 

"I  know !"  shouts  Snooks — "If  he  had  taken  my  ad- 
vice  " 

"Ah,  ah!  Did  you  know  him?"  inquires  the  old 
gentleman,  evidently  surprised  and  unconvinced. 

"Know  him!"  Snooks  snorts  defiance,  as  much  as 
to  imply  that  if  he  knows  the  inside  of  his  own  pocket 


SNOOKS'S  OPINION  119 

he  knew  Kitchener  still  better !  In  irritable  impatience 
he  watches  the  old  gentleman's  leisurely  perusal  of  his 
epistolary  effusion. 

"Ah !  Yes — er — yes !  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  says 
the  old  gentleman  at  last,  putting  aside  the  paper.  "I'm 
not  quite  sure  that  I  understand  it,  but  it's  not  the 
way  I'd  put  it." 

"Oh,  all  right !"  and  Snooks  turns  on  his  heel  with  a 
superior  air  of  disdain.  "I  suppose  you're  for  the  wast- 
ing of  millions!  Everybody  is,  that  doesn't  study  the 
subject.  Now  / " 

Here  a  stray  man  comes  to  the  rescue  of  the  deaf 
old  gentleman,  the  conversation  changes,  and  the  fa- 
mous Times  letter  is  forgotten. 

Often  Snooks  seems  to  be  ubiquitous.  His  letters 
appear  in  numerous  papers,  especially  the  provincial 
ones.  Sometimes  a  Snooks's  "opinion"  is  squeezed  just 
under  the  "Space  for  Special  News,"  which  in  many 
halfpenny  rags  is  not  "Special  News"  at  all,  but  merely 
the  results  of — Football ! 

When  all  the  intelligent  world  was  waiting  for  war 
news,  a  Birmingham  paper  had  a  "Space  for  Special 
News"  in  which  football  results  were  printed  first  and 
the  war  news  second !  The  absurd  folly  and  incongruity 
of  this  sort  of  thing  never  seems  to  strike  the  syndicated 
Press.  The  effect  of  it  on  the  minds  of  our  French 
and  other  Allies  is  too  humiliating  to  be  written.  It 
might  draw  forth  a  letter  from  Snooks,  if  only  Snooks's 
opinion  carried  weight.  But  it  doesn't.  The  greatest 
"opinion"  that  could  be  imagined,  even  that  of  Plato 
or  Shakespeare,  doesn't  much  matter  to  any  one.  It  is 
not  a  time  for  individual  criticism ;  it  is  only  time  for 
inspiration  and  action.  A  strong  thought  is  always 


120  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

silent;  it  resolves  itself  into  deeds  rather  than  words. 
There  has  been  altogether  too  much  talk  during  the 
progress  of  the  war;  too  many  "Snookses"  in  too  many 
newspapers.  Snooks  has  even  cropped  up  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  to  say  nothing  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
And  it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  Snooks  does  noth- 
ing ;  he  is  not  in  the  smallest  degree  useful  to  his  coun- 
try ;  he  merely  stands,  like  an  old  washerwoman  leaning 
over  her  tub,  and  talks.  He  talks  to  any  one  who  is  idle 
and  stupid  enough  to  listen.  He  finds  out  all  sorts  of 
"queer  things"  about  General  this  or  Colonel  that,  and 
for  women  he  has  scarcely  a  good  word  to  say. 

They're  no  use!"  he  declares  contemptuously.  "All 
their  sick  nursing  and  sewing  was  done  just  for  sheer 
man-trapping!  Show  them  some  new  hats  and  they'd 
forget  all  about  their  patients !" 

When  this  heresy  is  indignantly  refuted,  he  snaps 
his  mouth  in  a  firm,  hard  line,  as  though  it  were  a 
steel  box. 

"I'd  bet  you  a  hundred  pounds,"  he  says,  "that  if  it 
were  women  who  were  wounded  in  the  war  instead  of 
men,  you'd  hardly  find  one  of  their  own  sex  to  wait 
upon  them!  They  love  fussing  round  a  man!  It's  a 
perfect  godsend  to  them,  especially  the  old  maids! 
There's  an  excitement  about  it;  a  sort  of  morbid  in- 
terest! They  delight  in  washing  a  Tommy's  face  and 
brushing  his  hair.  If  it  were  one  of  themselves  they'd 
scrub  the  face  till  the  skin  was  ruined  and  brush  the 
hair  the  wrong  way!  I  know  'em,  I  tell  you!  You 
give  a  pretty  woman  who  is  ill  to  an  ugly  woman  who 
is  well,  to  be  nursed,  and  she'll  'nurse'  her!  You'll 
see  what  she'll  make  of  her  in  twenty-four  hours!  I 


SNOOKS'S  OPINION  121 

tell  you  I  take  a  calm,  common-sense  view  of  all  this 
sort  of  bunkum !" 

Unfortunately  for  Snooks,  his  "calm,  common-sense 
view"  does  not  appeal  to  the  world  in  general.  It  does 
not  even  impress  the  Premier,  who,  up  to  the  present, 
has  failed  to  consult  Snooks  respecting  the  "conduct 
of  the  war,"  or  to  offer  him  a  "portfolio."  He  longs 
to  be  consulted.  He  yearns  to  be  displayed  on  the 
headlines  of  the  halfpenny  dailies  or  Sunday  pictorials 
in  flamboyant  beauty,  or  as, — 

"ME.  SNOOKS  SPEAKS  OUT";  or  "THE  GREAT  MES- 
SAGE OF  MR.  SNOOKS/' 

But  these  things  don't  happen.  He  has  still  to  con- 
tent himself  with  letters  to  the  Press,  which  sometimes 
get  read,  but  more  often  are  passed  over  and  forgotten 
altogether.  Nevertheless,  his  "opinion"  is  in  all  the 
newspapers,  whether  read  or  unread,  and  though  the 
King  has  not  sent  for  hrm  yet,  and  he  has  no  "port- 
folio," he  is  admittedly  and  visibly  "SNOOKS."  So 
that  when  any  particularly  mischievous  comment  on  af- 
fairs in  general  appears  in  print,  or  any  "calm  and 
common-sense  view,"  which  gives  useful  "points"  to 
the  enemy,  and  irritates  the  patience  of  the  public,  we 
know  who  it  is,  and  we  don't  much  mind !  We  merely 
say  "SNOOKS  again!"  or  "Another  powerful  letter 
from  Mr.  Snooks  will  appear  next  week  I" 


SEA  POWER,  1805-1918 

I 

GLORY  and  terror  and  splendid  joy  of  the  Sea ! 
Thunderous  Sentinel-Guard  of  our  flowering  Isles  of 

the  Free  1 
Fortress    impregnable,    built    with    the    mountainous 

waves 
Toppling  in  fury  of  laughter  sheer  over  our  enemies' 

graves ! 
God !  ...  It  is  all  we  can  ask  for !  .  .  .  that  still  we 

ever  may  be 
Saved  by  the  glory  and  ternr  and  conquering  joy  of 

the  Sea! 

n 

Sea  that  sprang  to  the  keels  of  the  ships  of  Nelson  and 
Drake, 

Billows  that  leap'd  for  delight  in  the  battles  for  Eng- 
land's sake — 

Will  ye  fail  us  now?    Nay,  never!    Ye  are  strong  as 
ye  were  of  yore, 

And  Victory's  voice  rings  clearly  out  in  your  rush  on 
the  rocky  shore — 

And  shark-like  Death,  at  the  enemy's  cry,  to  meet  him 
swiftly  runs, 

For  your  swirl  and  sucking  sands  are  as  sure  as  the 
fire  of  a  thousand  guns ! 
122 


SEA  POWER,  1805-1918  123 

in 

Glory  and  terror  and  conquering  love  of  the  Sea, 

Circling  our  Fortunate  Isles  of  Fame,  more  famous 
still  to  be ! 

Let  us  praise  the  Giver  of  Life  for  the  silver  and  azure 
band 

He  hath  set  between  us  and  our  foes  on  the  other  side 
of  the  land. 

Break,  it  cannot !  Yield,  it  shall  not !  England,  home 
of  the  free, 

God  keep  thee  safe  in  the  strength  and  light  and  con- 
quering love  of  the  Sea ! 


THE  SPLENDID  SERVICE  OF  THE  SEA 

(Written  by  request  for  the  Navy  League) 

IN  this  greatest  War  of  all  history,  a  War  which  in 
extent,  in  terrifying  armaments,  and  in  massed  millions 
of  men  surpasses  in  fearful  slaughter  and  incalculable 
results  all  the  battles  ever  chronicled  from  earliest 
times  to  now,  why  is  it  that  in  these  Isles  of  Britain, 
the  nucleus  of  the  Empire  most  concerned,  there  is 
so  much  indifference,  apathy,  and  real  ignorance  dis- 
played among  the  general  public  of  the  "man-in-the- 
street"  type  concerning  the  silent  but  ever  vigilant 
work  of  our  Navy?  There  is  no  use  in  denying  the 
fact — indifference,  apathy,  and  ignorance  exist;  and 
all  taken  together  constitute  an  extraordinary,  well- 
nigh  alarming  national  phenomenon.  Carelessness 
arises  from  what  is  sometimes  called  "cock-sureness," 
and  we  are  amazingly  "cock-sure"  of  ourselves,  espe- 
cially in  naval  matters.  The  levity  of  our  women,  apart 
from  those  who  are  engaged  in  sick  nursing  and  charita- 
ble works,  and  who  are  happily  numerous,  is  almost 
unbelievable;  their  outrageous,  not  to  say  positively 
crazy  "new  fashions"  in  dress,  their  "dinner  dances"  at 
London  restaurants,  their  "bridge  parties,"  and  their 
"night  clubs"  make  one  think  of  the  warning  words  of 
the  prophet  Isaiah : — 

"Eise  up,  ye  women  that  are  at  ease ;  hear  my  voice, 
ye  careless  daughters ;  give  ear  unto  my  speech.    Many 

124 


THE  SEEVICE  OF  THE  SEA  125 

days  and  years  shall  ye  be  troubled,  ye  careless  women ; 
for  the  vintage  shall  fail,  the  gathering  shall  not  come !" 

For  truly  the  "vintage"  of  prosperity  and  the  "gath- 
ering" of  good  for  this  country  of  ours  would  fail,  and 
fail  utterly,  if  it  were  not  for  our  resolved  and  invinci- 
ble guardianship  of  the  sea — a  guardianship  which  must 
never  be  relaxed,  and  which  every  one  of  us  should 
learn  to  appreciate  and  help  to  strengthen  by  every 
means  that  we  may. 

We  are  assured  by  many  sagacious  essayists  and  his- 
torians that  it  is  the  women  of  the  nation  who  make 
and  who  influence  the  men;  and  if  this  be  the  case, 
at  least  one-half  of  our  British  women  have  cause  to 
be  proud  of  the  splendid  fellows  they  have  sent  forth 
to  take  part  in  the  vast  contest  on  which  such  mighty 
issues  depend.  But  the  other  half  seem  deaf  to  the 
roar  of  the  guns,  or  to  the  call  of  the  Sea.  The  land 
forces  occupy  all  the  attention  of  newspaper  readers, 
and  very  little  information  can  be  gleaned  about  our 
seamen.  The  women  prattle  pleasantly  about  the  grim 
struggle  at  ISTeuve  Chapelle  or  at  Ypres;  one  hardly 
ever  hears  them  talk  about  the  long,  long  hours  of  long, 
long  days  and  nights  spent  by  our  silent  mariners, 
watching  from  every  great  battleship  and  cruiser  for  the 
treacherous  foe.  Yet  every  woman  should,  at  the  pres- 
ent moment,  be  well  on  the  alert;  eager,  enthusiastic, 
and  ready  to  inspire,  even  to  command  the  youth  of  the 
rising  generation;  and  among  other  duties  falling  to 
their  lot  is  distinctly  that  of  teaching  their  own  boys, 
and  other  women's  boys  too,  the  inestimable  value  of 
service  in  the  Navy. 

That  grand  protector  of  our  islands,  the  Sea,  is  to 
Great  Britain  more  than  a  hundred  million  of  men  5 


126  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

and  every  boy  should  learn  the  history  of  what  it  has 
been  to  us,  what  it  is,  and  what  it  ever  will  be,  held 
by  a  Fleet  which  has  never  been  conquered!  Every 
brave  lad's  heart  is  bound  to  thrill  when  he  is  told 
of  the  magnificent  deeds  of  daring  performed  by  our 
naval  heroes  whose  names  are  household  words;  but 
it  is  to  be  feared  that  of  latter  years  boys  have  been 
encouraged  both  at  home  and  at  school  to  think  more 
of  "sport"  and  games  of  skill  than  patriotism,  and  the 
special  training  which  would  help  them  also  to  be 
heroic  and  to  "make  history."  Lawn  tennis  is  now 
regarded  as  a  serious  business,  but  it  is  only  a  game, 
and  a  country  will  never  be  saved  by  it.  Cricket  and 
football  are  equally  "games" ;  neither  one  nor  the  other 
will  drive  the  foe  from  our  shores  should  he  invade  us. 
Games  are  good  as  "games,"  but  when  they  become  a 
national  obsession  the  hard  and  fast  line  must  be  drawn 
before  it  is  too  late. 

The  Sea  is  our  fortress,  and  so  long  as  that  is  kept 
and  guarded  by  a  perfectly  trained  and  efficient  Navy, 
we  need  not  fear.  Nevertheless,  to  keep  that  training 
and  efficiency  up  to  the  mark  we  must  show  no  slack- 
ness, no  falling-off;  there  must  be  a  perpetual  addition 
of  new,  youthful,  and  ardent  blood;  brave  boys  and 
young  men  for  whom  the  ever  glorious  lines  of  Shake- 
speare express  life's  utmost  truth  and  meaning: — 

"This  royal  throne  of  kings,  this  sceptred  isle?> 
This  earth  of  majesty,  this  seat  of  Mars, 
This  other  Eden,  demi-paradise ; 
This  fortress  built  by  Nature  for  herself 
Against  infection  and  the  hand  of  war ; 
This  happy  breed  of  men,  this  little  world ; 


THE  SERVICE  OF  THE  SEA          127 

This  precious  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea, 

Which  serves  it  in  the  office  of  a  wall, 

Or  as  a  moat  defensive  to  a  house, 

Against  the  envy  of  less  happier  lands, 

This  blessed  plot,  this  earth,  this  realm,  this  England, 

This  nurse,  this  teeming  womb  of  royal  kings 

Fear'd  by  their  breed,  and  famous  by  their  birth, 

Renowned  for  their  deeds  as  far  from  home — 

For  Christian  service  and  true  chivalry — 

As  is  the  sepulchre  in  stubborn  Jewry 

Of  the  world's  ransom,  blessed  Mary's  Son ; 

This  land  of  such  dear  souls,  this  dear,  dear  land, 

Dear  for  her  reputation  through  the  world, 

•  ••••• 

England,  bound  in  with  the  triumphant  sea, 
Whose  rocky  shore  beats  back  the  envious  siege 
Of  watery  Neptune !" 

I  wish  that  every  word  of  this  magnificent  outburst 
of  noble  patriotism  were  learned  by  every  boy  in  Brit- 
ain, and  imprinted  on  his  memory,  as  ineffaceably  as 
his  daily  prayer.  It  is  the  heart's  utterance  of  the 
greatest  poet  and  truest  lover  of  his  country  England 
has  ever  produced,  and  inspires  the  soul  with  the  same 
emotion  as  that  expressed  by  Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert, 
of  Shakespeare's  time  and  spirit: — 

"Give  me  leave,  therefore,  without  offence  to  live  and 
die  in  this  mind,  that  he  is  not  worthy  to  live  at  all 
that  for  fear  or  danger  of  death,  shunneth  his  country's 
service  and  his  own  honour,  seeing  that  death  is  in- 
evitable, and  the  fame  of  virtue  immortal." 

Great  as  were  the  responsibilities  and  labours  of  the 
Navy  in  the  past,  they  were  nothing  compared  to  those 


128  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

of  the  present.  In  the  days  of  the  brilliant  and  saga- 
cious Queen  Elizabeth,  there  were  no  submarines,  mines, 
or  torpedoes,  and  the  historian  Camden  tells  us : — 

"This  great  Armada  which  had  been  three  complete 
years  in  rigging  and  preparing  with  infinite  expense, 
was  within  one  month's  space  many  times  fought  with, 
and  at  the  last  overthrown,  with  the  slaughter  of  many 
men,  not  an  hundred  of  the  English  being  missing, 
nor  any  large  ship  lost.  .  .  .  Whereupon  several  monies 
were  coined  in  memory  of  the  victory,  some  with  a  fleet 
flying  with  full  sail;  others  in  honour  of  the  Queen, 
with  fireships  and  a  fleet  all  in  confusion,  inscribed 
Dux  Foemina,  facti,  that  is,  A  Woman  was  conductor  in 
the  Fight." 

At  that  time  the  enemy  Spanish  Fleet  came  forth 
and  showed  battle,  but  up  to  the  present  the  German 
Fleet,  which  took  much  longer  than  "three  years"  to 
prepare,  has  not  been  much  in  evidence  till  its  hum- 
ble surrender,  and  its  only  exhibited  warfare  was  the 
treacherous  method  of  torpedoing  unsuspecting  and 
mostly  neutral  vessels,  some  of  which  had  no  means  of 
defence.  My  own  heart  thrills  when  I  think  of  our 
splendid  naval  men,  whose  spirits  still  respond  to  Nel- 
son's undying  signal — "England  expects  that  every  man 
will  do  his  duty !"  The  Germans  are  not  a  sea-faring 
race.  The  British  are  born  and  bred  "of  the  sea"; 
the  salt  and  savour  of  it  are  mixed  with  their  blood, 
and  for  a  thousand  years  they  have  been  accustomed  to 
it  in  all  its  "wildest  moods. 

Herein  our  Navy  has  an  immense  advantage,  but 
because  we  are  thus  fortunately  bred,  there  is  no  need 
that  we  should  forget  that  breeding,  or  neglect  the  long 
education  we  have  had,  and  allow  the  youth  of  the 


THE  SERVICE  OF  THE  SEA  129 

country  to  imagine  there  is  no  need  of  their  service. 
On  the  contrary,  there  is  more  need  of  their  service 
than  ever,  and  for  the  furtherance  of  this  purpose 
we  are  all  anxious  that  as  many  of  our  hopeful  lads, 
who  have  a  turn  for  seafaring  and  adventure,  should 
join  the  Navy  League  at  once,  and  "train"  to  be 
defenders  of  their  country  as  young  and  smart  "sea- 
dogs"  of  the  old,  dauntless,  unconquerable  mettle. 
Every  help  should  be  given  to  this  end,  especially 
through  the  women,  the  mothers  of  strong  and  gallant 
boys,  who  can  influence  their  sons  and  imbue  them 
with  the  true  spirit  of  patriotism,  and  while  we  work 
to  strengthen  and  replenish  this  vital  and  necessary 
force  on  which  we  depend  so  much  for  our  defence 
and  our  means  of  existence,  we  should  think — we  who 
"sit  at  home  at  ease,"  of  the  long  periods  of  watch- 
fulness endured  by  the  men  of  our  Fleet  at  sea  in  wait- 
ing at  every  turn  for  each  fresh  move  of  an  insidious 
and  unscrupulous  foe.  We  should  manage  to  let  them 
know  that  their  work  is  not  all  in  vain ;  that  there  are 
plenty  of  young  fellows  ready  to  follow  them  when  the 
time  comes,  and  join  in  their  splendid  service  of  the 
guardianship  of  the  sea. 

In  this  effort,  the  Navy  League  is  a  fine  and  neces- 
sary institution.  It  keeps  the  youthful  spirit  of  the 
Navy  alive  and  enthusiastic,  and  it  reminds  us  of  what 
might  otherwise  be  forgotten,  that  far  more  than  all 
other  defences  we  rely  on  the  Sea  and  our  Fleet  to  pre- 
serve our  existence  and  protect  us  from  invasion. 

We  can  help  them  at  home  by  spreading  the  Spirit 
of  the  Navy — the  spirit  of  Drake,  Frobisher,  and  Nel- 
son among  all  our  growing  lads  who  are,  in  their  hearts, 
eager  to  be  "up  and  doing."  I  should  like  to  see  an 


130  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

active  branch  of  the  Navy  League  established  in  every 
town  and  village  all  over  Britain — a  centre  where 
ambitious  boys  can  be  sure  of  receiving  sympathetic 
attention  and  assistance  for  their  training ;  and  I  think 
it  would  be  good  and  serviceable  if  women  would  help 
more  than  they  at  present  do  in  this  work,  by  teaching 
their  boys  to  honour  and  love  the  Service,  and  en- 
couraging them  to  read  the  stories  of  naval  heroism 
and  naval  conquest,  so  that  their  minds  may  be  turned 
constantly  towards  ideas  of  their  country's  defence, 
their  country's  safety,  their  country's  glory.  None  of 
these  things  will,  or  can,  be  assisted  by  football,  cricket, 
or  lawn  tennis,  except  as  games  for  physical  develop- 
ment ;  but  by  discipline,  study  of  the  art  of  navigation, 
and  the  wonderful  ways  of  Nature  in  wind  and  wave, 
and  by  that  sincere  devotion  to  duty  which  brings  a 
man's  life  into  safe  port  as  surely  as  a  well-piloted, 
well-guarded  vessel.  A  sea-girt  land  should  breed  sea- 
men ;  we  cannot  have  too  many  of  them.  And  by  early 
training  such  powers  may  be  attained  as  may  build  a 
bright  British  lad  into  his  land's  history  as  an  unfor- 
gettable hero.  For,  as  the  famous  song  tells  us: — 

"Britannia  needs  no  bulwarks, 
No  towers  along  the  steep ; 
Her  march  is  o'er  the  mountain  waves, 
Her  home  is  on  the  deep  1" 


THE  LILIES  OF  FRANCE 

(Written  ty  request  for  "The  Golden  Boole  of  France") 

GLOEIOUS  Lilies!  Stainless  and  sweet,  they  spring 
from  a  sacred  soil,  wet  with  the  life-blood  of  brave 
men  and  the  tears  of  noble  women!  They  are  the 
Children  of  France  and  of  the  Future! — the  gracious 
youth  of  a  happier  day,  when  tyranny  and  fear  are 
past,  and  when  Peace  of  the  highest  and  purest  is  the 
canopy  of  safety  and  honour,  under -which  the  nation 
may  rest  after  long  and  bitter  strife!  The  Lilies  of 
girlhood  and  boyhood;  the  Children,  some  of  them  de- 
prived of  fathers  and  mothers,  but  never  entirely  or- 
phaned because  France  is  their  closest  parentage !  Oh, 
beautiful  human  blossoms,  growing  up  like  buds  of 
snow  from  the  black  smoke  and  ashes  of  battle  fires! 
— we  thank  God  for  you,  and  we  pray  that  you  may 
expand  in  happy  fragrance,  nourished  by  the  fresh  air 
of  freedom,  so  that  the  sufferings  your  heroic  fathers 
have  endured  for  France  may  be  transformed  into  joys 
for  you!  You  are  the  hope  and  glory  of  your  land, 
you  fair  flowers  which  even  now  are  beginning  to 
bloom  innocently  in  the  dust  of  many  graves ;  you  will 
be  the  radiant  and  triumphant  France  of  coming  years, 
when  your  wealth  of  splendid  youth  and  victory  shall 
flame  a  white  aurora  against  skies  of  heavenly  blue, 
undarkened  by  any  cloud  of  treachery!  Children  of 
France! — Lilies  that  grow  around  the  standard  of 

131 


132  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Liberty ! — we  commend  you  to  the  Future  in  faith  and 
in  hope !  Not  without  some  natural  sorrow,  for,  alas ! 
your  garden  is  the  graveyard  of  many  loves! — but 
though  we  weep,  our  tears  are  tears  of  pride  that  those 
whom  we  have  lost  are  fallen  in  honour,  and  that  the 
blood  from  which  you  draw  your  sustenance  is  unpol- 
luted by  so  much  as  one  drop  of  traitor's  gall!  So 
shall  you  rise  nobly,  on  stately  stems  of  heroic  ancestry 
and  memory  to  make  France  once  more  an  earthly 
paradise,  and  in  the  very  fairness  of  your  youth  we 
shall  see  reflected  the  light  of  the  dauntless  spirits  that 
have  fought  and  passed  away,  leaving  you  with  us  as 
their  most  precious  legacy,  which  we  accept  with  grati- 
tude— which  we  keep  with  all  tenderness — holding  you 
reverently  to  our  hearts  as  the  "Annunciation"  Lilies  of 
a  New  Gospel  1 


"WHOSO  SHALL  RECEIVE  ONE  SUCH  LITTLE 
CHILD !" 

(Written  on  behalf  of  St.  Nicholas  Home  for  "Raid-shock" 
Children  at  Chailry,  Sussex) 

NOTHING  is  lovelier  than  the  sight  of  a  perfectly  happy 
child — a  little,  laughing,  dancing,  restless,  sparkling 
bit  of  humanity  just  beginning  to  expand  into  life  like 
a  plant  putting  forth  leaves  and  tendrils  and  buds  that 
promise  fairest  flowering — a  creature  of  unspoilt  con- 
fidence and  innocence  whose  whole  consciousness  is  ab- 
sorbed in  wonder  and  delight  at  the  strange  newness 
of  the  world  around  it,  and  all  the  beautiful,  amazing 
things  the  world  offers  for  its  attraction  and  pleasure. 
The  flight  of  a  bird — the  delicate  caperings  of  a  butter- 
fly— the  flicker  of  sunshine  on  the  wall — the  ripple  of 
water — the  sound  of  joyous  laughter  and  dainty  music 
— all  these  pleasures  and  many  more  captivate  and  move 
a  child  to  smiling  and  pleased  gesture — the  little  voice, 
the  little  hands,  express  wordless  ecstasy — the  young 
eyes  glisten  with  unutterable  meanings.  Fresh  from 
the  unseen  Power  that  declared  "Let  us  make  man  in 
Our  image,"  it  displays  a  pathetic  faith  in  good — it 
trusts  all  the  big,  grown-up  people  around  it  in  an  ex- 
quisite confidence  that  none  of  them  will  allow  it  to 
suffer  harm — it  accepts  life  as  it  finds  it,  with  the  beau- 
tiful assurance  of  a  flower  which  opens  to  the  sun,  in- 
stinctively certain  that  all  is,  or  shall  be,  well.  Let  us 
remember  that  a  child  might  never  know  evil  if  its 

133 


134  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

elders  did  not  instruct  it  therein !  It  is  as  innocent  as 
any  other  young  animal — innocent  as  a  kitten  or  St. 
Bernard  puppy,  than  which  nothing  is  more  blunder- 
ingly simple  and  touchingly  confident.  If  we  watch  the 
unspoilt,  natural  gaiety  and  playfulness  of  all  young 
things  we  cannot  but  realise  the  truth  of  the  Divine 
pronouncement  on  creation,  "(Behold,  it  was  very  good !" 
and  that  we  were  meant  to  be  happy  on  this  planet — 
moreover,  that  we  should  be  happy,  if  it  were  not  that 
we  cannot  leave  each  other  alone — we  must  always  be 
backbiting  and  hurting  each  other,  interfering  in  our 
neighbour's  business  and  grudging  our  neighbour  his 
or  her  special  form  of  happiness.  No  child  can  be  hon- 
estly said  to  know  evil  till  we  assure  it  that  evil  exists 
— till  we  frown  and  say  "Naughty !  That  is  wrong !" 
heedless  of  the  bewildered  eyes  that  mutely  ask  "Why  ?" 
As  the  Italian  proverb  says :  "The  'Why'  of  a  child  is 
the  key  of  the  Universe."  Generally  speaking,  a  child's 
attitude  towards  life  is  one  of  complete  reliance  on  un- 
known but  trusted  destiny,  and  in  very  early  years,  if 
that  reliance  should  be  broken,  the  little  spirit  so 
startled  by  some  cruel  blow  is  seldom  or  never  the  same 
again.  But  a  few  years  ago,  when  we  who  plead  for 
the  children  now  were  all  children  ourselves,  the  phrase 
"a  bolt  from  the  blue"  was  a  phrase  merely,  expressing 
a  possible  calamity,  too  sudden  almost  to  ever  take  place 
— and  little  did  any  of  us  dream  that  we  should  be 
forced  to  realise  its  literal  achievement.  The  ingenuity 
of  man,  warped  to  devise  schemes  of  wickedness  rather 
than  beneficence,  has  brought  about  a  state  of  things  in 
which  the  once  secure  loveliness  of  the  heavens  has 
become  accursed  by  his  vindictive  presence,  bearing 
with  him  through  the  offended  air  the  means  of  destruc- 


TO  ONE  SUCH  LITTLE  CHILD         135 

tion  and  death  to  the  innocent  and  non-combatant  popu- 
lations of  peaceful  earth  places  below — and  without  a 
generous  human  thought  for  the  lives  of  others,  he 
speeds  his  selfish  and  devilish  flight,  insanely  convinced 
that  he  is  a  brave  man  in  his  efforts  to  kill  his  fellow- 
creatures  from  the  air,  as  well  as  on  the  land  and  under 
the  sea.  Nothing  more  heroic  is  left  to  him  by  his  gov- 
ernments, teachers,  propagandists  and  the  like  but  to 
kill — to  kill!  Were  he — apart  from  the  red  crime  of 
War — to  murder  man,  woman,  or  child  in  cold  blood, 
with  circumstances  of  mutilation  and  burning,  he  would 
be  condemned  to  the  gallows — but  the  wind-blown 
scarecrow  of  a  false  "patriotism"  speaks,  nay,  shouts, 
"Herein  killing  is  no  murder!"  and  he  rushes  on  his 
way  through  the  air  as  though  to  perform  an  errand  of 
mercy  instead  of  slaughter,  dropping  bombs  of  destruc- 
tion anywhere  that  seems  to  him  feasible,  and  when  he 
can  have,  as  he  reports,  "good  results!"  "Good"  re- 
sults !  "O  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do !"  Let  us  look  with  the  eyes  of  the  mind  and 
the  heart  on  such  a  scene  as  has  been  enacted  many 
times  recently — a  group  of  little  children  in  a  school, 
singing  their  little  play-songs,  or  repeating  their  earliest 
lessons — happy,  innocent,  confiding — when,  suddenly 
and  without  warning,  a  murderous  crash  and  thunder- 
burst  of  explosives  is  launched  from  the  air  through  the 
roof  above  them,  and  where  the  young  lithe  bodies  a 
moment  ago  disported  themselves,  there  lie  mutilated 
corpses  drenched  in  blood.  Our  foes  call  that  "war" — 
but  I  would  fain  believe  that  in  their  own  hearts  they 
know  it  is  butchery,  and  that  they  deplore  the  merciless 
militarism  that  compels  them  to  perform  such  deeds. 
And  even  worse  than  death  for  these  little  ones  is  the 


136  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

stunning  blow  on  their  mentality — the  horrible  knock, 
as  it  were,  on  the  delicate  membrane  of  the  nervous 
system,  which  bruises  it  in  a  subtle,  creeping  way  that 
is  almost  unimaginable.  Contrast  a  healthy,  happy 
child,  playing  fearlessly  in  the  fields  among  the  flow- 
ers, with  one  who  is  suffering  from  "raid  shock" — and 
who  sometimes  sits  lost  in  a  vague  stupor,  unwilling  to 
move — afraid  to  look  up  at  the  sky  lest  something  fiend- 
ish should  fall  from  it!  I  know  one  such  child  who 
refuses  now  to  raise  his  eyes  from  a  morose  study  of 
the  ground.  Hour  after  hour  he  sits  frowningly  ab- 
sorbed. Pressed  recently  to  look  at  the  flight  of  a  but- 
terfly through  the  air,  he  gave  a  terrified  glance  at  it 
sideways,  and  then  resumed  his  downward  staring.  A 
kindly  nurse,  trying  to  rouse  him,  said,  "You  mustn't 
be  frightened  of  the  sky — God  is  up  there!"  but  he 
uttered  a  little  pained  cry  and  covered  his  face,  sob- 
bing, "No — no — no!  Wicked  man  up  there — not 
God!" 

There  is  no  need  to  comment  on  the  effect  of  such 
impressions  on  a  child's  vivid  imagination;  it  is  alto-- 
gether  dreadful  and  disastrous,  for  who  can  tell  what 
damaging  results  to  the  brain  may  be  in  store  for  the 
innocent  little  victim!  Time  and  care,  with  healthful 
surroundings  and  healing  influences,  may  do  much 
to  eliminate  the  evil  and  disperse  the  horror  and  cruelty 
of  such  experiences — and  this  is  why  the  "St.  Nicholas 
Home"  exists  to-day,  thanks  to  the  loving  heart  and 
patience  of  its  founder,  Mrs.  Kimmins,  whose  tender- 
ness for  children  makes  one  feel  that  Her  guardian 
angel,  as  well  as  the  angels  who  watch  over  Christ's 
little  ones,  must  always  "behold  the  Face  of  the 
Father."  No  one  with  even  a  small  amount  to  spare 


TO  ONE  SUCH  LITTLE  CHILD         137 

from  the  multitudinous  claims  made  on  the  pocket  of 
the  unfortunate  British  taxpayer,  whose  Governments 
have  dragged  him  into  the  incredible  wickedness  of  a 
war  for  which  he  had  neither  the  taste  nor  the  inclina- 
tion, will  refuse  that  mite  to  assist  the  work  of  the 
"good  Saint  Nicholas"  in  the  home  over  which  his  child- 
hood-loving spirit  presides,  while  those  who  are  making 
much  of  the  "filthy  lucre"  out  of  the  exigencies  and 
demands  of  the  nations'  slaughter-houses  will  perchance 
salve  conscience  by  munificence.  Some  of  the  donors 
may  call  to  mind  the  story  of  the  father  who  murdered 
his  three  sons,  and  whose  crime  St.  Nicholas  discovered 
in  a  vision.  Going  to  the  inn  where  the  murderer  was, 
the  saint  forced  him  to  confess  his  wickedness,  and 
forthwith  raised  the  three  boys  to  life  again.  In  this 
legend  we  may  find  a  happy  symbol  for  the  "Home"  on 
whose  behalf  we  plead.  For  the  "raid-shock"  children 
are,  in  a  sense,  murdered,  though  alive — murdered  in 
their  natural  confidence,  hope,  and  gaiety,  and  crushed 
by  the  oppressive  consciousness  of  an  ever-looming  evil. 
We  wish,  as  St.  Nicholas  did  with  the  three  boys,  to 
raise  them  to  life  again — to  re-establish  their  youthful 
trust,  to  make  them  forget  that  there  are  men  who  are 
devils — but  perhaps  to  persuade  them  that  there  are 
women  who  are  angels !  Women,  with  mothers'  hearts, 
ready  to  put  mothers'  arms  round  them — to  play  with 
them  and  talk  "fairy  bits" — as  a  sweet  little  girl  asked 
me  to  do  the  other  day — women  who  will  care  for  them 
and  see  that  nothing  scares  them  from  their  healthful 
sleep  at  night,  or  their  innocent  games  by  day.  This 
is  the  object  of  our  appeal  for  "St.  Nicholas  Home" — 
a  worthy  cause — a  noble,  humane,  and  sacred  cause, 
for  we  must  "take  heed"  that  we  "offend  not  one  of 


138  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

these  little  ones."  And  most  earnestly  do  I  join  with 
all  who  have  put  their  shoulders  to  the  wheel  of  this 
great  Car  of  good  effort  steadily  going  a  stiff  way  up- 
hill— a  strong  push,  a  big  push,  and  a  push  all  together, 
and  we  shall  stand  on  the  shining  summit  of  success 
with  our  saved  children  gathered  round  us  in  the  light 
of  happier  days ! 


APPEAL  FOE  THE  FRENCH  RED  CROSS 

(Written  for  the  Shakespeare  Memorial  Theatre,  July,  1918) 

DEAR  FEIENDS! — We  are  here  to-day  in  the  name  of 
France;  France,  the  beautiful,  the  beloved  country, 
now  ravaged  and  desolated  by  the  cruelest  enemy  that 
ever  dishonoured  the  name  of  War.  I  am  asked  to 
make  an  appeal  to  you, — to  you,  the  people  of  the 
land  of  Shakespeare,  on  behalf  of  the  people  of  the 
land  of  Victor  Hugo, — and  I  esteem  it  an  honour,  a 
privilege,  and  a  duty  to  plead  this  great  Cause.  I  ask 
you  to  look  away  from  yourselves,  your  own  interests, 
your  own  comforts  in  this  peaceful  town,  which  has 
never  known  the  horrors  of  invasion  and  destruction 
by  brutal  foes, — I  ask  you  to  think  of  other  towns  and 
villages,  once  as  happy,  but  now  ruined  and  desolate, 
where  thousands  of  harmless  people  have  been  driven 
out  of  their  homes  and  forced  to  endure  miseries  such 
as  you  have  never  known !  Remember,  too,  with  what 
heroism  they  have  borne  their  sufferings! — with  what 
courage  and  fortitude!  Never  complaining,  they  have 
put  their  own  sorrows  and  losses  in  the  background  for 
the  sake  of  their  country,  and  when  all  the  tale  is  told, 
the  splendid  and  unflinching  patriotism  of  France  will 
shine  on  the  page  of  history  as  a  deathless  example  to 
all  the  nations  of  the  world! 

Think  for  a  moment  what  it  would  mean  to  you,  if 
you  had  to  look  on  at  your  beautiful  old  Church,  the 

139 


140  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

holy  shrine  of  Shakespeare's  rest,  battered  into  ruins 
by  the  bombs  and  shells  of  the  remorseless  German 
foe! — your  houses  shattered — your  gardens  laid  waste 
— your  streets  broken  up  by  the  machines  of  war,  and 
you  yourselves  turned  forth  as  homeless  wanderers 
without  hope  or  refuge ! — your  little  children  murdered 
before  your  eyes!  This  is  what  France  has  had  to 
endure,  and  it  is  your  happy  fortune  to  be  spared  these 
terrible  calamities  only  because  brave  men  are  fighting 
for  you  and  giving  their  lives  for  you  that  you  shall 
never  know  such  desolation!  And  not  only  your  own 
brave  men  but  the  brave  men  of  France  are  fighting^ 
for  you  as  well  as  for  themselves !  France  and  Britain 
are  friends  and  brothers-in-arms ;  and  in  the  great  and 
terrible  struggle  they  fight  as  one  soul!  We,  who  are 
protected  in  our  island  home  by  the  magnificent  hero- 
ism and  self-sacrifice  of  such  splendid  men,  can  do  but 
little  to  show  our  grateful  love  and  admiration  towards 
France  for  her  unmatched  endurance,  resolution,  forti- 
tude, and  courage ;  but  such  little  as  it  is  and  must  be, 
let  us  do  it  with  a  full  and  generous  heart!  Let  us 
take  pride  and  joy  in  helping  to  rebuild  the  ruined 
towns  and  villages, — let  us  try  to  comfort  the  brave 
people  by  giving  homes  to  the  homeless,  and  restoring 
in  some  measure  their  lost  peace  and  prosperity.  Every 
pound  that  can  be  spared  goes  to  alleviate  some  trouble. 
No  money  brings  such  divine  interest  as  that  which 
we  spend  in  helping  those  in  need.  Therefore  let  us 
not  grudge  our  offerings  to  the  heroic  martyr  of  the 
nations!  She  is  pierced  with  many  swords, — she  is 
scourged  and  crowned  with  thorns, — but  her  invincible 
faith  and  honour  and  patriotism  will  bring  her  through 
the  darkness  to  the  light  of  a  triumphant  and  glorious 


APPEAL  FOR  FRENCH  RED  CROSS  141 

Day!  Her  cause  is  Ours;  Our  cause  is  Hers!  Now  is 
the  time  when  we,  who  are  not  in  the  stress  of  battle, 
can  cheer  and  help  her  by  proofs  of  love  and  sympathy 
in  her  sorrows.  Most  earnestly  do  I  hope,  and  most 
ardently  do  I  pray  that  the  noble,  ever-living  spirit  of 
the  Master  Poet  of  the  world  whose  name  and  memory 
make  this  town  honourable,  may  so  influence  your  hearts 
that  you  will  give  freely  all  and  more  than  you  can 
spare,  in  generous  tenderness,  and  with  that  "quality 
of  mercy"  which  brings  blessing  beyond  all  wealth, 
and  reward  beyond  all  fame ! 

(The  above  Appeal  was  spoken  in  French  on  the  stage 
of  the  Shakespeare  Memorial  Theatre,  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  by  Monsieur  Combet  de  Larenne  as  follows:) 

MES  CHEES  AMIS, — Nous  nous  reunissons  au- 
jourd'hui  en  1'honneur  de  la  France,  la  France,  ce  beau 
pays,  ce  pays  aime,  a  cette  heure  ravage,  desole  par  le 
plus  cruel  ennemi  qui  ait  jamais  deshonore  la  guerre. 

On  m'a  demande  de  m'adresser  a  vous,  mes  amis, 
a  vous  qui  foulez  la  terre  de  Shakespeare,  en  faveur 
de  ceux  qui  foulent  celle  aujourd'hui  devastee  de  Victor 
Hugo,  et  je  considere  comme  un  honneur,  comme  un 
privilege,  et  an  meme  temps  comme  un  devoir  de  plaider 
aupres  de  vous  cette  grande  cause. 

Je  vous  demande  de  vous  recueillir,  de  considerer 
votre  situation  propre,  de  jeter  un  coup  d'oeil  sur  votre 
confort,  vous,  habitants  de  cette  ville  paisible,  qui 
n'avez  jamais  connu  les  horreurs  de  1' invasion,  de  la 
destruction  causees  par  le  plus  feroce  des  ennemis!  Je 
vous  demande  de  diriger  votre  pensee  vers  d'autres 
villes,  vers  d'autres  villages,  autrefois  joyeux  et  pros- 


142  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

peres  aujourd'hui  mines,  desoles,  au  des  milliers  .de 
malheureux  innocents  ont  ete  chasses  de  leur  foyer  et 
contraints  de  subir  des  miseres  plus  terribles  que  toutes 
celles  que  vous  pouvez  imaginer ! 

Rappelez-vous  aussi  avec  quel  heroisme  ils  ont  en- 
dure leurs  souffrances,  avec  quel  courage,  avec  quelle 
force  d'ame!  Sans  se  plaindre,  ils  ont,  pour  le  salut 
de  leur  patrie,  refoule  dans  le  plus  profond  de  leur 
etre  leurs  chagrins  et  leurs  angoisses,  et  quand  1'His- 
toire  parlera,  le  splendide  et  inebranlable  patriotisme 
de  la  France,  brillant  d'une  lumiere  etincelante,  sera 
pour  toutes  les  nations  tin  noble  et  imperissable 
exemple ! 

Pensez,  mes  chers  amis,  tin  instant  seulement  aux 
angoisses  qui  vous  etreindraient  le  cceur  si  vous  deviez 
considerer  votre  vieille  et  belle  eglise,  le  sanctuaire 
venere  au  repose  Shakespeare,  reduits  en  cendres  par 
les  bombes  et  par  les  obus  de  1'impitoyable  ennemi 
allemand!  vos  maisons  abattues,  vos  jardins  devastes, 
vos  rues  detruites  par  le  fer  et  par  le  feu,  et  si  vous 
deviez  vous  trouver  vous-memes  errants,  hagards,  sans 
esperance,  sans  refuge!  vos  petits  enfants  massacres 


sous  vos  yeux 


Ces  sant  ces  terribles  supplices  que  la  France  endure ! 
Vous  avez  la  bonne  fortune  d'echapper  a  ces  epou- 
vantables  calamites  grace  au  devouement  des  braves  qui 
combattent  et  qui  donnent  leur  ire  pour  vous,  et  c'est  a 
eux  que  vous  devrez  de  ne  jamais  connaitre  une  si  abom- 
inable desolation!  Ce  ne  sont  pas  seulement  les  en- 
fants de  FAngleterre  qui  se  battent  pour  vous:  ce  sont 
aussi  les  enfants  de  la  France;  ils  sont  freres  dans  la 
grande  et  terrible  lutte  actuelle;  ils  n'ont  qu'une  ame! 

Nous  qui  sommes  proteges   dans  notre  ile  par  le 


APPEAL  FOR  FRENCH  RED  CROSS  143 

magnifique  heroisme  et  par  le  devouement  d'hommes 
aussi  splendidement  grands,  donnous  une  preuve  de 
notre  amour  reconnaissant  et  de  notre  admiration  pour 
la  France,  pour  son  incomparable  tenacite,  pour  sa 
resolution  indomptable,  pour  sa  grandeur  d'ame  et  pour 
son  courage,  et  si  peu  que  nous  puissions  les  uns  et  les 
autres  faire  pour  elle,  faisons — le  avec  tout  notre  cosur, 
avec  toute  notre  generosite!  Sayons  fiers  et  joyeux 
d'aider  a  reconstruire  les  villes  detruites,  les  villages 
aneantis;  essayons  de  donner  un  peu  de  confort  aux 
malheureux  eprouves,  en  leur  procurant  un  abri,  en  leur 
rendant  un  peu  de  la  paix  et  de  la  prosperite  perdues ! 
Chaque  obole  allegera  une  part  de  souffrance!  !N"ul 
placement  ne  peut  rapporter  d'interet  plus  divinement 
profitable  que  celui  consacre  a  secourir  les  malheureux 
dans  le  besoin ! 

Done,  donnans  san  nesiter  a  1'heroique  nation  mar- 
tyre!  Elle  est  meurtrie  de  coups  de  lance,  elle  est 
flagellee  et  couronnee  d'epines,  mais  sa  foi  invincible, 
son  honneur  et  son  patriotisme  la  conduitent  a  travers 
les  tenebres  vers  la  lumiere  eblouissante  d'un  jour  de 
gloire  et  de  triomplie.  Sa  cause  est  la  notre;  notre 
cause  est  la  sienne.  Le  moment  est  venu  au  nous  qui 
ne  sommes  pas  dans  la  fournaise  de  la  lutte,  nous  pou- 
vons  venir  en  aide  a  la  noble  nation  et  lui  donner  les 
preuves  de  notre  amour  et  de  la  profonde  sympathie 
que  nous  ressentous  pour  elle. 

J'espere  ardement  que  le  noble  et  vivant  esprit  du 
genial  poete  dont  le  nom  et  la  memoire  illustrent  cette 
ville,  inspirera  vos  coaurs  et  que  vous  donnerez  a  1'ceuvre 
francaise  ce  que  vous  pourrez,  tout  ce  que  vous  pourrez, 
presque  plus  que  vous  ne  pourrez,  dans  un  elan  de 


144  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

tendresse  genereuse  et  avec  cette  qualite  de  misericorde 
dont  parle  notre  grand  Shakespeare,  cette  qualite  de 
misericorde  qui  apporte  line  benediction  superieure  a 
toute  richesse,  une  recompense  siiperieure  a  toute 
renommee ! 


GLOEY  OF  THE  WOECESTEES 

(Written  by  request  in  aid  of  the  Homes  for  Disabled  Worcester- 
shire Soldiers  and  Sailors) 


A   TRIBUTE   TO   A   FAMOUS   REGIMENT 

"You  have  deserved  nobly  of  your  country." 

Shakespeare. 

FAR  down  the  long  annals  of  past  history  we  must 
look  for  the  beginnings  of  the  brave  breed  of  Worcester- 
shire men — the  outcome  of  that  ancient  heroic  blood 
which  nourishes  the  flower  of  chivalry  and  strengthens 
the  spirit  to  perform  imperishable  deeds  of  valour. 
Between  a  band  of  tenacious  Britons  holding  the  sum- 
mits of  the  Malvern  Hills,  and  a  military  guard  and 
outpost  of  Eoman  warriors  at  Worcester  itself,  was 
seemingly  produced  that  special  type  of  Englishman 
who,  ever  since  those  far-away  days,  has  been  famous 
for  courage  and  conquest.  The  native  fighting  force  of 
the  Gael,  and  the  trained  skill  and  prowess  of  the 
Eoman  are  mingled  in  his  being,  and  they  make  him, 
almost  unconsciously  to  himself,  a  hero  from  his  youth. 
Something  of  the  salt  of  ocean,  as  well  as  of  the  salt  of 
the  earth,  is  in  him,  bracing  his  energies  and  hardening 
his  muscle  and,  indeed,  if  we  grope  farther  back  in  the 
dark  recesses  of  time,  we  shall  find  geology  suggesting 
that  Worcestershire  was  once  a  sea,  and  the  hills  of 
Malvern,  islands,  and  that  the  projecting  bluffs  on  each 
side  of  the  gaps  in  the  opposite  range  were  capes 

145 


146  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

standing  out  from  what  some  imaginative  folk  called 
the  "Severn  Straits,"  so  that  we  may  be  permitted  to 
fancy  the  earliest  progenitors  of  the  Worcestershire 
breed  were,  perhaps,  bold  mariners,  sailing  round  a 
veritable  archipelago  of  islands,  and  skilfully  steering 
their  primitive  craft  into  harbours  sheltered  by  the  very 
headlands  which  confront  us  to-day;  or  they  might 
have  been  hunters,  chasing  the  innumerable  wild  beasts 
which  at  one  period  infested  the  formerly  dense  "Forest 
of  Malvern" — a  forest  that  even  in  the  Middle  Ages 
stretched  from  the  plains  to  the  very  tops  of  the 
hills.  Be  this  as  it  may,  our  redoubtable  men  of 
Worcestershire  must  have  been  born  and  bred  from 
strong  beginnings;  they  come  of  a  stock  which  knows 
no  fear,  no  hesitation,  no  failure.  The  "Firm"  fighters 
whom  we  delight  to  honour  are  the  product  of  centuries 
of  heroism.  Heroism  comes  so  naturally  to  them  that 
they  think  little  or  nothing  of  it.  Their  pride  is  in 
each  other — not  in  themselves  individually;  what  is 
said  of  one  man,  must  be  said  for  the  whole  Regiment. 
Their  spirit  is  expressed  in  Shakespeare's  lines, — 

"In  this  glorious  and  well-foughten  field 
We  kept  together  in  our  chivalry !" 

And  though  they  have  performed  prodigies  of  valour 
in  bygone  great  battles,  as  in  the  terrific  "World  War," 
they  make  no  boast  of  their  proved  mettle,  nor  have 
they  called  upon  the  country  they  so  nobly  serve  for 
special  consideration.  It  is  with  difficulty,  and  only  by 
piecing  dry  and  desultory  bits  of  history  together,  that 
we  are  at  all  able  to  read  their  Golden  Chronicle,  or  to 
realise  the  nature  and  worth  of  their  splendid  services, 


splendidly  performed  in  defence  of  "This  dear,  dear 
land,  this  land  of  such  dear  souls — This  England !" 

We  do  not  know  with  any  certainty  the  character  or 
military  qualifications  of  their  first  Colonel,  Thomas 
Farrington,  who  raised  the  Regiment  in  1694,  but  we 
do  know  many  of  their  brilliant  exploits  since  that 
far-off  day,  especially  in  India,  such  as  the  carrying  of 
the  Delhi  Gate  and  the  storming  and  capture  of  Banga- 
lore, which  helped  to  bring  about  the  vanquishment 
of  that  notable  rebel,  Tippoo  Sahib;  and  though  the 
overladen  pages  of  historians  find  little  space  for  special 
mention  of  special  companies  of  soldiers,  the  Duke  of 
Wellington's  praise  of  the  Regiment  after  Badajos  has 
not  slipped  notice,  nor  is  it  likely  to  be  forgotten : — 

"It  is  the  best  Regiment  in  this  Army,  has  an  admir- 
able internal  system  and  excellent  non-commissioned 
officers." 

But  the  laurels  of  the  past,  thickly  showered  as  they 
were  on  the  "Worcesters,"  are  little  to  compare  with 
those  of  the  present,  when  valour  is  put  to  its  utmost 
test,  and  when  war  weapons  contrary  to  all  international 
usage,  more  deadly  and  treacherous  than  ever  were 
known  before,  are  employed  by  the  most  inhuman  and 
dishonourable  of  foes.  We  have  only  to  recall  the 
dramatic  scenario  of  the  village  of  Gheluvelt  during 
the  battle  of  Ypres,  when  the  Worcesters  literally  saved 
the  day.  !N\>  page  of  romance  was  ever  more  thrilling ! 
The  Germans  had  carried  the  village,  but  the  Welsh, 
true  sons  of  "Gallant  Little  Wales,"  remained,  firing, 
holding  their  ground  and  refusing  to  admit  any  sort  of 
defeat.  Even  when  they  had  been  given  the  order  to 
retreat,  they  hung  on  with  the  grim  tenacity  of  their 


148  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Celtic  ancestors,  and  it  depended  on  the  merest  chance 
as  to  whether  any  company  of  men  could  advance  to 
their  assistance  under  the  deadly  fire  of  shrapnel  which 
covered  and  cut  them  off  from  the  rest  of  their  line. 
But  rescue  was  forthcoming — a  mere  handful  of  Wor- 
cesters — six  hundred  of  them,  were  stationed  but  a 
mile  off  Gheluvelt.  Their  commanding  officer  gave  the 
order — "Advance  without  delay  and  deliver  counter- 
attack." 

"Theirs  not  to  make  reply, 
Theirs  not  to  reason  why, 
Theirs  but  to  do  and  die!" 

They  responded,  and  rushed  for  about  half  a  mile 
under  the  battering  rain  of  shrapnel,  going  for  two 
hundred  yards  without  cover. 

"Into  the  jaws  of  Death, 
Into  the  mouth  of  Hell 
Ean  the  Six  Hundred!" 

Shrapnel  showered  thick  and  hot  in  front  of  them, 
and  on  their  right  flanks  the  Bavarians  poured  bullets 
upon  them  from  rifles  and  machine  guns.  In  crossing 
the  two  hundred  yards  without  "cover"  they  had  one 
hundred  casualties.  But  what  did  death  or  danger 
matter  to  the  Worcesters  ?  "What  have  they  ever  cared 
for  shots  that  have  sped  their  brave  souls  to  Heaven? 
They  pressed  on,  up  on  the  left  of  the  splendidly  stub- 
born Welsh,  and  opened  fire  with  so  much  success  that 
the  foe  was  forced  to  retreat.  The  effect  of  their  action 
was  such  that  the  position  was  entirely  changed — the 
Germans  fell  back  and  the  British  line  was  reinstated. 
In  Sir  John  French's  despatch  it  is  written : — 


GLOEY  OF  THE  WOECESTEES         149 

"The  recapture  of  the  village  of  Gheluvelt  at  such  a 
time  was  fraught  with  momentous  consequences.  If 
any  one  unit  can  be  singled  out  for  special  praise  it 
is  the  Worcesters." 

Quite  recently,  a  British  General,  whose  name,  for 
some  occult  reason  or  other,  was  withheld  from  the 
public  by  the  newspaper  reporter,  gave  an  enthusiastic 
account  of  the  fine  deeds  of  the  Worcestershire  Eegiment 
on  the  Somme. 

"The  Worcesters  have  a  wonderful  record,"  lie  said. 
"They  have  seen  some  of  the  hardest  fighting  of  this 
war,  and  they  have  won  new  honours  for  a  fine  regiment,, 
which  already  boasts  some  of  the  most  glorious  records 
on  our  military  history." 

We  shall  do  well  to  think  of,  and  to  long  remember, 
some  of  this  "hardest  fighting."  Eor  example,  when 
they  made  their  wonderful  stand  against  the  Prussian 
Guards,  with  the  Wiltshires.  Some  of  the  incidents 
in  that  fight  have  never  been  recorded,  and  yet,  to 
those  who  witnessed  them  they  make  the  glory  of  the 
Worcesters  still  more  glorious.  Listen  to  the  stirring 
account  of  the  stirring  action ! 

"The  battalions  had  been  fighting  incessantly  for 
weeks,  with  little  or  no  rest.  They  had  taken  trenches 
from  which  the  enemy  had  to  be  flung  out.  The  sub- 
sequent German  attack  or  counter-attack  was  delivered 
by  a  force  of  picked  troops,  made  up  of  Prussian  Guards 
and  other  crack  regiments.  There  were  at  least  ten 
thousand  of  these  crack  troops.  They  were  supported 
by  magnificent  artillery  and  had  been  trained  for  an 
attack  over  this  ground  for  days  before  they  were  sent 
against  the  Worcesters.  Judging  by  the  ordinary 
standard  of  things,  the  weary  Worcesters7  battalions 


150  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

ought  to  have  been  crushed  and  finished  under  such 
an  avalanche;  but  they  withstood  the  fiercest  attacks 
for  two  days  and  nights.  They  captured  many  prison- 
ers, as  many  as  themselves,  and  the  German  killed  and 
wounded  were  twice  as  numerous  as  they.  There  was 
one  great  mound  of  dead  before  the  trench,  after  the 
last  attack  was  driven  off,  the  Germans  being  simply 
mown  down  by  the  machine  guns  of  the  Worcesters." 

"Firm"  has  ever  been  the  character  of  the  Regiment, 
as  well  as  its  motto.  On  five  several  occasions  they  have 
held  their  ground  and  carried  strong  positions  held  by 
superior  enemy  forces.  They  have  come  triumphantly 
through  every  ordeal — shell-fire,  machine-gun  fire, 
liquid  fire,  and  poison  gas,  without  shrinking  or  com- 
plaint— and  on  several  occasions  the  foe  himself  has 
been  moved  to  praise  of  their  splendid  heroism.  Here 
is  another  story: — 

"On  one  occasion  a  battalion  of  the  Worcesters  was 
advancing  under  great  difficulties  against  a  strongly 
fortified  village.  The  artillery  fire  and  infantry  defence 
was  stronger  even  than  they  expected.  For  a  moment 
the  battalion  seemed  to  pause.  The  officer  in  command 
sprang  forward  with  the  shout,  'Firm!  Firm!  Give 
them  Worcester  Sauce!'  The  men  responded  with  a 
cheer  and  laughter — they  swept  forward,  rushing  the 
position  and  fighting  their  way  to  the  rear  of  the 
surprised  and  baffled  foe." 

Think  of  the  time  when  a  little  band  of  these  splendid 
lads  were  cut  off  by  a  sudden  descent  of  the  enemy 
in  force !  They  were  holding  a  bit  of  trench,  which  was 
powdered  to  ruins  by  shell-fire,  and  they  were  half- 
buried  under  the  wreckage;  but  they  dug  themselves 
out  again,  and  fought  with  such  resolved  fury  that  not 


GLORY  OF  THE  WORCESTERS        151 

all  the  forces  of  the  foe  could  overwhelm  or  overawe 
them.  They  held  their  ground  for  three  days — though 
every  man  who  wasn't  killed  was  wounded.  When 
they  were  at  last  relieved  they  were  cheered  wildly  by 
the  troops  who  watched  their  limping  march  down  to 
billets  for  rest,  heroes  all,  without  a  single  exception! 

Such  is  the  "way"  of  the  Worcesters — such  has  al- 
ways been  their  way  from  their  beginning.  Unflinching 
valour,  duty,  and  love  of  country  beyond  all  love  of  life, 
has  made  them  and  still  makes  them  what  they  are. 
They,  and  all  their  brave  and  noble  kind,  have  fought 
and  are  still  fighting  for  us  that  we  may  dwell  in  our 
homes  in  peace.  It  must  now  be  our  pride,  as  well  as 
our  honour,  to  prove  our  gratitude  to  them,  not  only  by 
words  but  deeds.  Many  of  them  will  return  to  us, 
broken  men,  deprived  of  health,  strength,  and  all  ability 
to  work  for  their  living — crippled,  blind,  disfigured — 
suffering  too  from  what  we  may  call  mind-hurt  beyond 
remedy.  That  is  to  say,  the  awful,  ineffaceable  impres- 
sion of  ghastly  sights  and  sounds,  so  inhuman,  as  to 
shame  humanity.  What  shall  we  do  for  our  self-sacri- 
ficing defenders  when  they  come  home  ?  How  shall  we 
assuage  their  sufferings  and  seek  to  make  them  forget 
the  terrors  they  have  confronted  for  our  sakes  ? 

In  matters  of  this  kind,  many  people  incline  to  the 
old  conventional,  rather  worn-out  business  of  a  "War 
Memorial,"  which  conveniently  and  with  all  official  pub- 
licity and  importance,  writes  the  names  of  living  sub- 
scribers as  well  as  those  of  the  heroic  dead,  but  it  is 
more  than  likely  that  the  whole  face  of  the  Empire  will 
be  strewn  with  such  "War  Memorials"  in  so  great  a 
number  that  in  a  short  time  no  passer-by  will  pause  to 
look  at  them.  And  a  monument  of  cold  stone  cannot 


152  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

come  into  comparison  with  the  expressed  warmth  01 
loving  hearts ;  so  that  the  best  and  kindest  "Memorial" 
to  the  gallant  "Worcesters"  who  have  passed  away  "in 
the  stern  and  grim  life-battle,  in  the  morning  of  their 
day" — should  be  of  a  nature  to  care  and  to  provide 
for  the  "Worcesters"  who  have  come  alive  out  of  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow,  and  who  remain  with  us  to 
witness  our  recognition  of  their  services.  Such  a 
"Memorial"  is  proposed  by  the  Mayor  of  Worcester, 
and  I,  for  one,  do  most  heartily  wish  that  his  lead  could 
be  followed  in  every  County  and  Town  of  Imperial 
Britain.  For  what  a  fine  scheme  it  is !  Could  anything 
be  more  practically  humane  and  sympathetic  than  the 
idea  that  small,  pretty  cottages  or  bungalows  should 
be  erected  to  provide  permanent  homes,  rent  free,  not 
only  for  the  life-disabled  men  of  the  Worcestershire 
Regiment,  but  also  for  Worcestershire  Sailors  and  Sol- 
diers in  other  units,  similarly  disabled,  who  have  "borne 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,"  and  who  are  entitled 
to  the  country's  heart-whole  gratitude.  I  can  imagine 
no  more  beautiful  "Memorial"  to  these  brave  fellows 
than  the  free  gift  of  charming  little  houses  to  live  in, 
fragrant  little  gardens  to  tend,  and  a  fair  and  peaceful 
prospect  to  look  upon  for  the  rest  of  their  days.  Noth- 
ing better,  nothing  kinder  could  be  advised  for  the  per- 
manently injured  and  maimed,  the  sad  and  battered 
wrecks  of  once  strong  and  comely  men — no  more  com- 
forting reparation  scheme  could  possibly  be  thought  of 
— and  it  is  good  to  know  that  much  has  already  been 
done,  and  is  being  done,  to  forward  its  success.  The 
Mayor  of  Worcester  himself  has  given  the  site  for 
building,  and  one  individual  has  offered  five  tons  of 
lime  to  assist  operations.  Then  come  the  Pharmacists 


of  Worcester,  who  are  willing  to  supply  free  all  drugs 
and  medicaments  needed  by  the  dwellers  on  this  "Pleas- 
aunce  of  Peace" — while  the  "Old  Comrades"  of  the 
County  Regiment  have  incorporated  an  effort  of  their 
own  with  the  general  plan,  which  has  the  approval  of 
the  local  military  authorities.  Subscriptions  are  be- 
ginning to  flow  in;  and  when  it  is  fully  realised  how 
welcome  and  warm  "a  Home-coming"  can,  by  these 
means,  be  given  to  the  heroes  who  have  sacrificed  their 
own  homes  to  fight  for  us,  surely  every  one  will  be 
eager  and  anxious  to  contribute  to  so  worthy  a  cause. 
For  say  what  we  will,  there  is  a  truth  in  the  familiar 
song, — 

"Be  it  ever  so  humble, 
There's  no  place  like  home !" 

And  it  is  within  our  power  to  give  our  broken 
Worcestershire  men  that  blessed  abode  of  simple 
tranquillity  and  content,  which,  if  they  had  not  fought 
for  us  they  might  have  earned  for  themselves.  They 
will  have  their  pensions  from  the  Government  of  course, 
but  we  doubt  whether  those  pensions  will  be  as  adequate 
as  they  might  expect.  Anyhow,  we  of  the  British 
People,  who  have  been  defended  by  their  valour,  can- 
not do  too  much  for  them,  and  if  the  Mayor  of  Wor- 
cester's scheme  were  copied  and  carried  out  all  through 
the  British  Isles  it  would  lift  a  considerable  burden 
of  anxiety  from  the  State.  If  any  "County"  must  have 
a  special  "War  Memorial"  to  coldly  chronicle  names  of 
the  dead  rather  than  hearts  of  the  living,  there  is 
nothing  in  our  "Happy  Homes"  work  to  prevent  the 
erection  of  "marble  or  the  gilded  monument,"  but  to 
the  eyes  of  thinkers,  philosophers,  and  all  teachers  and 


154!  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

helpers  of  mankind,  a  little  village  of  clustering  cottages 
on  the  lovely  site  which  the  Mayor  has  freely  given, 
commanding  as  it  does  an  outlook  over  picturesque 
country — cottages  with  tiny  gardens  easy  to  till,  plant, 
and  care  for,  where  in  summer  the  dear  old-fashioned 
flowers  which  are  a  liberal  education  in  themselves, 
may  bring  their  beauty  and  sweetness  into  lives  that 
have  been  blackened  by  shot  and  shell — will  offer  a 
far  greater  and  more  impressive  testimony  of  memory 
and  gratitude. 

I,  who  am  privileged  to  write  this  brief  token  of 
honour  and  admiration  for  men  whose  fine  character 
and  splendid  courage  have  been  chronicled  by  infinitely 
worthier  pens  than  mine,  now  plead  this  noble  cause, 
as  worthy  of  the  strongest  and  most  loving  support  of 
every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  historic  county  of 
Worcestershire,  and  I  want  the  spirit  of  a  fine  and  active 
enthusiasm  to  "catch  on"  and  spread  like  a  prairie  fire, 
not  only  through  Worcestershire,  but  even  farther  afield. 
Why  should  not  every  county  have  its  own  soldiers' 
and  sailors'  settlement?  It's  own  well-organised,  pic- 
turesque haven  and  "Pleasaunce  of  Peace"  ?  It  is 
impossible  that  any  of  us  should  sit  down  in  satisfied 
comfort  at  the  close  of  the  war  and  do  nothing  for  the 
men  who  have  done  so  much  for  our  defence.  A  new 
"Garden  City"  would  hardly  be  spacious  enough  to 
provide  them  with  their  well-earned  ease — and  shall  we 
hesitate  to  build  them  villages  ?  Villages  so  artistically 
and  prettily  planned,  so  dainty  and  restful  that  the 
wandering  stranger  in  future  years  shall  pause,  en- 
chanted, to  ask  what  influences  have  been  at  work  to 
create  such  little  Edens  on  earth.  And  he  will  be 
told:— 


GLORY  OF  THE  WORCESTERS        155 

"These  are  the  homes  of  heroes! — here  dwell  men 
who  faced  death  for  duty's  sake  and  Britain's  honour 
— and  Britain  has  given  them  what  she  can  to  prove 
her  gratitude,  and  to  make  their  remaining  lives  sweet." 

For,  of  every  man  that  has  fought  for  us  in  this 
terrific  World-Struggle  for  nobler  freedom  and  higher 
ideals,  it  can  be  said  with  Shakespeare, — 

"The  blood  that  he  hath  lost,  he  dropp'd  it  for  his 

country, 

And  what  is  left,  to  lose  it  by  his  country, 
Were  to  us  all  that  do't  and  suffer  it 
A  brand  to  the  end  of  the  world !" 


EYES   OF  THE   SEA 

(Written  "by  special  request  of  the  Directors  for  the  British  and 
Foreign  Sailors?  Society) 


A  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  GBAND  FLEET  AND  ADMIRAL  BEATTT 

"Then  said  David  to  the  Philistine,  'Thou  comest  to  me  with  a 
sword  and  a  spear  and  with  a  shield,  but  I  come  to  thee  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  .  .  .  This  day  will  the  Lord  deliver 
thee  into  mine  hand ! '  " 

WE  all  know  that  in  Bible  history  there  was  a  certain 
Goliath  of  Gath.  His  height  was  six  cubits  and  a  span, 
— that  is  to  say,  about  ten  feet.  He  had  a  helmet  of 
brass,  and  he  wore  a  coat  of  mail  weighing  five  thousand 
shekels  of  brass, — about  a  hundred  and  fifty-six  pounds. 
He  had  brass  on  his  legs,  and  brass  between  his  shoul- 
ders, and  his  spear's  head  weighed  six  hundred  shekels 
of  iron.  Taking  him  altogether  he  was  a  fine  prototype 
of  the  Hun,  who  is  similarly  a  monster  of  »Brass,  Iron, 
and  Brag.  And  then  DAVID,  "ruddy  and  of  a  fair 
countenance,"  drew  near  to  this  Brazen  Being,  and 
smote  him  with  a  stone  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead, 
so  that  he  "fell  with  his  face  to  earth." 

And  this  is  just  what  our  "David"  has  done.  A 
matter  for  national  rejoicing !  Especially  for  "they  that 
go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships  and  do  business  in  great 
waters"  do  we  rejoice  that  the  "David"  of  the  Grand 
Fleet,— high-souled,  brave-hearted  DAVID  BEATTY, 
— commands  the  Sling  and  Stone  of  our  straight-hitting 
Naval  Power!  What  better  man  than  he  to  take  the 

166 


EYES  OF  THE  SEA  157 

place  of  Nelson? — to  carry  out  with  zealous  ardour 
Nelson's  one  wish,  Nelson's  last  desire  that  "every  man 
should  do  his  duty!"  Look  at  the  strong  face, — the 
keen,  clear  "eyes  of  the  sea," — the  resolute  yet  tender 
lines  of  the  mouth, — the  whole  bearing  of  this  bold  and 
dauntless  commander,  and  then  think  of  the  lofty  and 
devout  spirit  of  him  expressed  in  his  recent  "message'' 
to  the  nation: — 

"Until  religious  revival  takes  place  at  home,  just  so 
long  will  the  war  continue.  When  England  can  look 
out  on  the  future  with  humbler  eyes  and  a  prayer  on 
her  lips,  then  we  can  begin  to  count  the  days  towards 
the  end!" 

There's  a  challenge  for  you !  Flung  out  unhesitating- 
ly and  manfully  in  the  very  face  of  a  swarm  of  atheists 
in  Church  and  State,  who  for  the  past  decade  at  least, 
have  copied  Germany  in  mockery  of  all  things  holy 
and  divine,  and  have  spread  their  "literary"  blasphemies 
throughout  the  land,  assisted  in  their  work  of  "tearing 
down"  Christianity  by  a  corrupt  section  of  society  and 
a  decadent  Press!  It's  a  challenge  we  are  bound  to 
hear, — given  in  simple,  manly  words  which  echo  the 
high  faith  of  him  who  won  the  Battle  of  Trafalgar, 
and  who,  on  the  eve  of  the  fight  retired  to  his  cabin 
and  wrote  this  prayer: — 

"May  the  great  God  Whom  I  worship  grant  to  my 
country,  and  for  the  benefit  of  Europe  in  general,  a 
great  and  glorious  victory;  and  may  no  misconduct  in 
any  one  tarnish  it ;  and  may  humanity  after  victory  be 
the  predominant  feature  in  the  British  Fleet!  For 
myself  individually,  I  commit  my  life  to  Him  that 
made  me,  and  may  His  blessing  alight  on  my  endeavours 
for  serving  my  country  faithfully  1  To  Him  I  resign 


158  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

myself  and  the  just  cause  which  is  entrusted  to  me  to 
defend.  Amen !" 

Without  such  faith,  such  humility  and  resignation 
as  this,  few  great  victories  are  won.  Even  pagan  heroes 
sought  the  favour  of  their  gods  in  every  high  enter- 
prise ;  but  in  our  time  the  nations  of  Europe,  assuming 
an  "advancement"  beyond  either  pagans  or  Christians, 
have  been  seeking  to  ignore  the  Higher  Power  Almighty 
altogether;  with  what  dire  results  is  now  witnessed  by 
desolated  peoples  drenched  in  blood  and  tears!  Of 
Nelson  it  is  written :  "All  men  knew  that  his  heart  was 
as  humane  as  it  was  fearless,  and  that  there  was  not  in 
his  nature  an  alloy  of  selfishness  or  cupidity,  but  that 
he  served  his  country  with  a  perfect  and  entire  devo- 
tion, therefore  they  loved  him  as  truly  and  fervently  as 
he  loved  England." 

Cannot  each  word  of  this  be  said  with  equal  truth 
of  David  Beatty  ?  Every  man  of  the  Fleet  will  answer 
"Yes!"  And  every  man  of  the  Elect  will  endeavour 
to  be  a  copy  of  him  in  all  the  grand  essentials  of  honour 
and  duty.  And  here  comes  in  a  little  story. 

Only  the  other  day  I  received  a  letter  from  a  lad  on 
board  one  of  our  mine-sweepers, — a  stranger  to  me 
personally,  but  one  who  evidently  felt  sure  (as  he 
might)  of  my  interest  in  his  difficult  and  dangerous 
work.  In  that  letter  he  writes: — 

"I  am  in  his  Majesty's  Navy  and  I  am  just  twenty. 
My  last  ship  was  Admiral  Beatty's  Flagship,  the  Lion, 
on  board  of  which  I  had  the  honour  of  being  a  little 
over  three  years  under  an  Admiral  whose  qualities  are 
magnificent.  I  want  to  say  this,  because  people  are  apt 
to  take  doubtful  views  through  articles  in  the  papers 
about  our  truly  Great  Leaders." 


EYES  OF  THE  SEA  159 

Yes, — "articles  in  the  papers,"  written  by  caterers 
for  mere  sensational  gabble,  are  apt  to  influence  the 
majority  of  fools;  and  "doubtful  views"  are  generally 
entertained  by  persons  who  in  themselves  are  more  than 
doubtful.  But  if  a  boy  of  twenty,  after  serving  for 
three  years  under  Admiral  vBeatty,  can  write,  "His 
qualities  are  magnificent"  it  means  a  very  great  deal. 
Young  fellows  of  that  age  are  not  always  easily  im- 
pressed by  their  superiors, — they  are  more  critical  than 
complimentary;  and  the  rules  of  naval  discipline  go 
hard  with  them  unless  administered  by  a  kindly  as  well 
as  just  hand.  "Eyes  of  the  Sea"  must  be  everywhere 
vigilant, — watching  men's  minds  equally  with  God's 
stormy  waters, — ever  on  the  look-out  for  enemies  of 
the  soul  as  well  as  enemies  of  the  country;  and  so 
well  and  truly  do  they  watch, — so  faithfully  have  they 
always  watched,  that  sailors'  eyes  have  grown  to  be 
quite  different  to  all  other  eyes  in  the  world !  We  know 
them  at  once  by  their  far-off  steady  gaze — by  their  look 
of  mingled  pathos,  persistency,  and  cheerfulness, — by 
the  sparkle  of  the  waves  and  the  light  of  stars  which 
are  somehow  commingled  in  their  keen  glances,  sug- 
gesting the  wonderful  power  and  indomitable  energy  of 
"one  life,  one  flag,  one  fleet!"  The  strong  lines  of 
Alfred  Tennyson,  the  last  worthy  Laureate  of  Great 
Britain,  may  well  ring  in  our  ears  to-day : — 

"You,  you,  if  you  shall  fail  to  understand 

What  England  is,  and  what  her  all-in-all, 
On  you  will  come  the  curse  of  all  the  land 
Should  this  old  England  fall 

Which  Nelson  left  so  great. 


160  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

His  isle,  the  mightiest  ocean-power  on  earth, 
Our  own  fair  isle,  the  Lord  of  every  sea, 

Her  fuller  franchise — what  would  that  be  worth, 
Her  ancient  fame  of  Tree,' 

Were  she — a  fallen  State  ? 

Her  dauntless  Army  scattered  and  so  small — 
Her  island  myriads  fed  from  alien  lands, 

The  Fleet  of  England  is  her  all-in-all ; 
Her  Fleet  is  in  your  hands, 

And  in  her  Fleet  her  Fate. 

You,  you  that  have  the  ordering  of  her  Fleet, 
//  you  should  only  compass  her  disgrace, 

When  all  men  starve,  the  wild  mob's  million  feet 
Will  kick  you  from  your  place, 

But  then  too  late,  too  late !" 

But  Great  Britain  "is  no  longer  an  island,"  we  hear. 
Who  says  so?  Merely  brazen  Goliath  with  his  big 
mouth  of  Brag.  "No  longer  safe  from  invasion."  Who 
says  so  ?  Goliath  again !  Our  "supremacy  of  the  seas 
is  gone  for  ever !"  Good  old  Goliath !  Submarines  and 
Zeppelins  are  to  bring  the  invaders  along  as  surely  as 
weeds  swept  on  the  sand  by  the  tidel  Easier  said 
than  done !  What  says  the  old  song  ? 

"Since  our  foes  to  invade  us  have  long  been  preparing 
'Tis  clear  they  consider  we've  something  worth  sharing, 

And  for  that,  mean  to  visit  our  shore ; 
It  behoves  us,  however,  with  spirit  to  meet  'em, 
And  though  'twill  be  nothing  uncommon  to  beat  'em 


EYES  OF  THE  SEA  161 

We  must  try  how  they'll  take  it  once  more  I 

So  be  this  the  toast  given, 
England  for  ever,  the  land,  boys,  we  live  in, 
England  for  ever,  huzza ! 

Here's  health  to  our  tars,  on  the  wide  ocean  ranging, 
Perhaps  even  now  some  broadsides  they're  exchanging, 

We'll  on  shipboard  and  join  in  the  fight ! 
And  when  with  the  foe  we  are  firmly  engaging, 
Till  the  fire  of  our  guns  lulls  the  sea  in  its  raging, 
On  our  country  we'll  think  with  delight — 

So  be  this  the  word  given, 
England  for  ever,  the  land,  boys,  we  live  in, 
England  for  ever,  huzza!" 

True  enough,  we  have  to  deal  nowadays  with  pirates, 
— not  true  naval  men, — with  burglars,  not  warriors, — 
and  inhumanity  being  the  characteristic  of  all  such 
folk,  the  international  laws  of  Imperial  Britain  and  her 
Allies,  regulating  the  conduct  of  warfare,  have  no  hold 
on  them.  We  are  not  at  war  with  an  educated  people, — 
for  they  have  shown  themselves  openly  as  savages.  But 
though  the  wholesome  air  may  be  poisoned  by  the  breath 
of  the  Hun,  and  murderous  bombs  may  be  flung  through 
those  spaces  of  heavenly  blue,  once  most  blessedly  free 
from  the  presence  of  humanity,  we  have  already  proved 
equal  to  tackling  the  Zeppelins,  and  shall  tackle  them 
yet  again.  And  we  shall  "manage"  the  submarines  in 
a  way  of  our  own,  if  only  the  garrulous  and  indiscreet 
Press  will  leave  us  alone  to  do  it,  and  refrain  from  giving 
elaborate  details  of  all  our  newest  machinery  in  their 
columns  for  the  benefit  and  instruction  of  the  enemy! 
We  would  not  "tell  it  in  Gath"  to  Goliath,  how  many 


162  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

of  his  under-sea  "sneak"  boats  have  already  been 
"bagged"  by  our  sportive  captains — that's  a  "secret  of 
the  Admiralty."  But  it  is  just  possible  that  even  Huns 
may  be  weary  of  the  certainty  of  death  by  fire  in  the 
air,  and  death  by  "ramming  down"  to  the  bottom  of 
the  sea  1  Neither  way  is  a  pleasant  exit  from  the  world 
of  living  men.  Both  are  the  result  of  inventive  science 
put  to  wrong  uses, — namely  to  injure,  instead  of  to 
benefit.  The  old  ways  of  combat  were  more  open  and 
honourable.  Better  the  sword  and  shield  than  the  gas 
and  the  bomb, — better  the  fair  fight  between  ships  con- 
fronting each  other  boldly  on  the  ocean,  than  the  float- 
ing mine  or  the  sly  torpedo,  sneaking  like  a  low  thief 
beneath  the  waves.  There  is  something  cowardly  about 
the  new  "scientific"  weapons  of  war, — they  manifest 
the  assassin's  spirit  rather  than  that  of  the  honest  sol- 
dier. The  long-distance  gun,  the  poison-vapours,  the 
"dum-dum"  bullet — all  show  the  inventive  faculty  of 
murderers  in  training,  not  the  sane  education  of  civi- 
lised and  honourable  men.  There  has  been  much  talk 
of  "advancement" — but  if  human  progress  takes  the 
form  of  "scientific"  torture,  barbarity,  and  outrage  on 
our  fellow-creatures,  it  is  not  progress  at  all,  but  terrible 
retrogression  and  back-sliding  which  must  be  checked 
before  it  is  too  late.  No  man  can  do  better  than  see 
to  it  that  what  has  been  written  of  Nelson  may  also  be 
said  of  him: — 

"All  men  knew  that  his  heart  was  as  humane  as  it 
was  fearless." 

We  say  this,  think  this,  and  feel  this  of  David  Beatty, 
— and  by  the  Almighty's  grace  and  power,  we  want  to 
say,  think,  and  feel  the  same  of  every  man  and  boy 
under  his  command!  And  so  the  Fleet  will  be  as  it 


EYES  OF  THE  SEA  163 

always  has  been, — the  star  of  victory  in  the  crown  of 
Empira  On  the  memorable  occasion  when  Mr.  Lloyd 
George  rose  to  make  his  first  address  to  the  House  as 
Prime  Minister,  Admiral  Sir  H.  Meux,  Member  for 
Portsmouth,  asked : — 

"Will  the  right  hon.  gentleman  say  a  word  about  the 
Navy  before  he  sits  down  ?" 

And  the  new  Premier  replied  at  once : — 

"My  hon.  and  gallant  friend  knows  that  the  achieve- 
ments of  the  Navy  speak  for  themselves.  I  do  not  think 
that  anything  I  can  say  would  be  in  the  least  adequate 
to  recognise  the  enormous  and  incalculable  services  that 
the  great  Navy  of  Britain  has  rendered,  not  merely  to 
the  Empire  but  to  the  whole  Allied  cause.  Not  merely 
would  victory  have  been  impossible,  but  the  war  could 
not  have  been  kept  on  for  two  and  a  half  years  had  it 
not  been  for  the  services  of  the  Navy." 

These  words  called  forth  ringing  cheers.  For  it  is 
We, — we  Britons — who  sweep  the  seas !  It  is  our  heri- 
tage to  do  so.  A  rumour  is  about  that  one  of  the  "peace 
terms"  foolishly  proposed  by  Germany  is,  that  we 
should  "abandon  our  supremacy  of  the  sea !"  As  well 
ask  the  sun  to  abandon  its  supremacy  of  the  skies !  It 
would  be  an  evil  day  for  all  nations,  not  only  our  own, 
when  Britannia  ceased  to  rule  the  waves!  Her  just, 
wise  laws  of  freedom  and  fairness  would  soon  be  re- 
placed by  ruthless  piracy,  and  there  would  be  no  secur- 
ity for  any  coast.  It  is  a  good  thing  for  America  and 
Europe  likewise  that  this 

"Precious  stone,  set  in  the  silver  sea, 
Which  serves  it  in  the  office  of  a  wall, 


164  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Or  as  a  moat  defensive  to  a  house, 
Against  the  envy  of  less  happier  lands" 

should  be  the  guardian  of  the  girdling  ocean,  maintain- 
ing its  highest  rights  and  liberties  in  the  face  of  all  foes. 
And  so  may  it  ever  remain ! 

What  stories  I  could  tell,  had  I  the  time  and  space, 
of  heroic  deeds  "unwritten  and  unsung"  performed  by 
the  men  of  the  Fleet,  not  only  in  the  past,  but  now ! — 
now,  in  these  actual  present  days,  when  great  London, 
plunged  to  the  neck  in  a  flood  of  gold,  poured  in  for  the 
help,  healing,  and  comfort  of  our  fighting  men  on  land 
and  sea,  is  striving,  like  a  giant  caught  in  a  net,  to  dis- 
entangle its  sacred  duties  from  its  selfish  pleasures, — 
trying  to  realise  in  its  vague  way  that  War  is  really 
War!  Of  "Tommy"  one  hears  much;  but  of  "Jack 
Tar"  less, — though  they  are  close  comrades  in  the  one 
spirit  of  devotion  to  duty,  and  each  has  his  own  burden 
of  difficulties  to  bear, — his  own  sphere  of  danger  to 
surmount  and  to  master.  The  story  of  brave  Jack  Corn- 
well  thrilled  every  heart, — putting  well  into  the  shade 
the  similar  exploit  of  "Casabianca,"  of  whom,  when  we 
were  children,  we  all  learned,  in  the  verse  of  Felicia 
Hemans : — 

"The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck, 

Whence  all  but  him  had  fled; 
The  flame  that  lit  the  battle's  wreck 
Shone  round  him  o'er  the  dead." 
and 

"The  noblest  thing  that  perished  there 
Was  that  young,  faithful  heart." 


EYES  OF  THE  SEA  165 

Only  there  is  no  poet  among  us  worthy  of  the  name 
to  "sing  the  memory"  of  Jack  Cornwell,  thanks  to  the 
swarm  of  atheists,  pessimists,  decadents,  and  anti- 
idealists  who  have  heen  encouraged  to  darken  and  dis- 
grace the  literary  annals  of  Great  Britain.  "Casabian- 
ca"  was  a  boy  about  thirteen  years  of  age,  son  to  the 
Admiral  of  the  Orient,  who  remained  at  his  post  in  the 
Battle  of  the  Nile  after  the  ship  had  taken  fire  and  all 
the  guns  had  been  abandoned,  and  perished  in  the  ex- 
plosion of  the  vessel  when  the  flames  had  reached  the 
powder.  All  who  have  read  the  enthralling  pages  of  our 
sea-history  will  remember  that  the  Orient  was  the 
French  Admiral's  ship,  carrying  a  hundred  and  twenty 
guns,  and  that  he  himself  died  on  her  quarter-deck,  his 
little  son  remaining  at  the  post  where  his  father  had 
placed  him,  all  unconscious  of  his  father's  end.  "Soon 
after  nine  o'clock,"  says  the  historian,  "the  Orient 
appeared  in  flames,  which  spread  with  astonishing  rapid- 
ity, and  by  their  prodigious  light  the  situation  of  the 
hostile  fleets  could  be  seen  at  a  distance  of  fifteen  miles. 
The  Orient's  crew,  however,  continued  to  fire  from  her 
lower-deck  to  the  very  last,  and  at  about  ten  o'clock  she 
blew  up  with  an  explosion  which  was  felt  by  every  vessel 
to  the  bottom  of  its  keel.  To  this  succeeded  a  silence 
not  less  awful, — the  sanguinary  conflict  ceased  on  both 
sides, — and  the  first  sound  that  broke  that  portentous 
stillness  was  the  splash  of  shattered  masts  and  yards 
falling  into  the  sea." 

So  "Casabianca"  perished  gallantly — but  not  more 
gallantly  than  Jack  Cornwell.  Both  boys,  the  one 
French,  the  other  English,  were  made  of  the  same 
heroic  stuff  that  gives  worth  and  honour  to  the  nations 
that  breed  it. 


166  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Very  quaint  and  poetic  it  is  to  read  at  this  time 
of  day,  the  picturesque  record  of  William  Camden, 
Clarencieux  King-at-Arms  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  con- 
cerning the  entrance  of  the  Spanish  Armada  into 
English  waters: — 

"The  next  day  the  English  discovered  the  Spanish 
Fleet  with  lofty  Turrets,  like  Castles,  in  front  like  a 
Half-Moon,  the  wings  thereof  spreading  out  about  the 
length  of  seven  miles,  sailing  very  slowly,  though  with 
full  sails,  the  Winds  being,  as  it  were,  tired  with  carry- 
ing them,  and  the  Ocean  groaning  under  the  weight  of 
them.  .  .  .  But  so  far  was  it  from  terrifying  the  sea- 
coasts  with  its  name  of  'Invincible'  or  with  its  dreadful 
Show,  that  the  young  Gentry  of  England,  with  incredi- 
ble Cheerfulness  and  Alacrity  (leaving  their  parents, 
children,  wives,  and  friends  at  home)  out  of  their  hearty 
Love  to  their  Country,  hired  ships  from  all  parts  at 
their  own  private  charges  and  joined  with  the  Fleet 
in  great  numbers." 

I  think  we,  in  our  present  days,  have  had  the  word 
"invincible"  thrown  at  us  a  good  deal  from  the  brag- 
gart mouth  of  the  "Hun" — but  "so  far  from  terrifying 
us" — it  has  had  the  same  effect  on  our  manhood  as  it 
had  in  Tudor  days  so  far  as  "incredible  Cheerfulness 
and  Alacrity"  are  concerned!  And  Queen  Elizabeth 
apparently  found  a  prototype  of  Nelson  and  David 
Beatty,  for,  says  Camden,  "The  command  of  the  whole 
Fleet  she  gave  to  Charles,  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham, 
Lord  Admiral  of  England,  of  whose  fortunate  Conduct 
she  had  a  very  great  Persuasion,  and  whom  she  knew 
by  his  moderate  and  noble  carriage,  to  be  skilful  in 
sea-matters,  wary  and  provident,  valiant  and  courage- 
ous, industrious  and  active,  and  of  great  authority  and 


EYES  OF  THE  SEA 

esteem  among  the  seamen  of  her  Navy.  Drake,  whom 
she  appointed  Vice-Admiral,  joined  with  him." 

Queen  Bess  evidently  knew  how  to  select  the  best 
men!  And  we  may  justly  claim  to  have  kept  up  the 
breed.  For  there  is  not  a  word  written  of  Admiral 
Lord  Howard  in  those  old  days  that  cannot  be  equally 
written  now  of  Admiral  Sir  David  Beatty.  Every  man 
of  the  Fleet  knows  it;  and  is  proud  and  glad  to  serve 
under  his  command.  "Skilful  in  sea-matters,  wary  and 
provident,  valiant  and  courageous,  industrious  and 
active,  and  of  great  authority  and  esteem  among  the 
seamen  of  the  Navy!" 

And  we  shall  do  well  to  remember  that  on  the  out- 
break of  war,  the  country  was  assured  that  the  Mercan- 
tile Marine  accepted  the  risks  incurred  in  maintaining 
the  supplies  of  food  so  indispensable  to  the  existence 
of  the  people,  and  in  ensuring  a  path  of  safety  for 
commerce,  and  the  transport  of  troops  and  war  material. 
And  British  shipmasters,  officers,  and  seamen  alike  ex- 
pressed their  resolve  to  keep  the  seas  open  at  all  costs. 
The  result  of  this  inflexible  determination  is  that 
throughout  continuous  struggle,  exposed  to  daily  and 
nightly  peril  from  mine  and  submarine,  British  ships 
continue  to  arrive  in  British  ports  and  sail  again  with  a 
splendid  disregard  of  all  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
which  beset  them  in  maintaining  the  overseas  trade  of 
the  nation.  It  is  time  such  priceless  valour  was  more 
absolutely  defended  and  held  dear  by  the  Empire  which 
owes  it  so  much.  Our  merchantmen  should  be  armed. 
The  expenditure  would  be  less  than  the  loss  of  heroic 
lives !  Merchant  seamen  should  be  given  every  possible 
means  of  protecting  their  own  existence  and  securing 
the  safety  of  their  ships  and  cargoes.  Their  foes  are 


168  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

ruthless, — they  should  be  given  ample  means  of  retalia- 
tion and  defence.    For — 

"We  sing  the  British  seamen's  praise, 

A  theme  renowned  in  story, 
It  well  deserves  more  polished  lays, 

For  'tis  your  boast  and  glory, — 
When  mad-brain'd  war  spreads  death  around, 

By  them  you  are  protected, 
But  oft  when  peace  again  is  found, 

Your  bulwarks  are  neglected ! 
Then  oh !  protect  the  hardy  tar ! 

Be  mindful  of  his  merit, 
And  when  you're  plung'd  anew  in  war 

He'll  show  his  dauntless  spirit !" 

And  no  man  of  any  class  needs  a  "dauntless  spirit" 
more.  Courage  alone  makes  him  what  he  is.  For 
though  I  love  the  sea  with  an  intense  love  beyond  all 
world-expression,  I  know  how  cruel  it  can  be,  although 
so  beautiful — and  while  I  rejoice  and  revel  in  the 
splendour  of  terrific  waves  breaking  in  pillars  of  foam 
up  against  rocks  a  hundred  or  more  feet  high,  I  cannot 
but  hear  in  my  soul  the  wild  and  despairing  cries  of 
drowning  men,  and  the  noise  of  breaking  ships — I  see 
the  horror  of  drifting  dead  forms  and  faces  swirling  on 
the  blackness  of  the  deep,  and  with  my  whole  heart  I 
join  in  the  prayer: — 

"God,  Who  alone  spreadest  out  the  heavens,  and 
rulest  the  raging  of  the  sea,  be  pleased  to  receive  into 
Thy  most  gracious  protection  the  persons  of  Thy  ser- 
vants and  the  Fleet  in  which  they  serve!  Preserve 
them  from  the  dangers  of  the  sea  and  from  the  violence 


EYES  OF  THE  SEA  169 

of  the  enemy,  that  they  may  be  a  safeguard ! — and  that 
the  inhabitants  of  our  Island  may  in  peace  and  quiet- 
ness serve  Thee,  our  God !" 

Amen,  and  many  times  Amen!  And  it  is  possible 
that  Admiral  Sir  David  Beatty,  like  his  great  prototype, 
Admiral  Lord  Kelson,  may  have  sent  the  same  message 
to  the  Fleet  on  the  day  of  the  German  surrender  which 
Nelson  sent  after  the  iBattle  of  the  Nile,  thus : — 

"Almighty  God  having  blessed  his  Majesty's  arms 
with  Victory,  the  Admiral  intends  returning  Public 
Thanksgiving  for  the  same  at  two  o'clock  this  day,  and 
he  recommends  every  ship  doing  the  same  as  soon  as 
convenient. — Signed,  HORATIO  NELSON.  August  2, 
1798." 

A  similar  devotional  spirit  inspires  our  "David"  of 
the  sea,  when  he  says  that  England  must  look  to  the 
future  "with  a  prayer  on  her  lips."  This  great  War, 
the  greatest  in  all  history,  will,  with  all  its  wickedness 
and  bloodshed,  prove  a  blessing,  if  the  cloud  of  Atheism 
which  has  swept  over  us  through  perverted  and  decadent 
German  ideals,  is  rolled  away, — leaving  a  clear  and 
wholesome  heaven  of  faith  and  hope  for  a  nation  brought 
back  to  God  through  humility,  self-sacrifice  and  splen- 
did heroism ! 

Eyes  of  the  Sea ! 
Steadfast    and   clear   as   the   light   of   a   midsummer 

morning, 
Sure  in  your  vigilance,   swift   in  the  flash   of  your 

warning, 

Pledges  of  safety  for  us  and  our  land  of  the  free, 
Slumberless  Eyes  of  the  Sea ! 


170  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Eyes  of  the  Sea ! 
Watchful   at   midnight,    companioning   stars   in   their 

courses, 

Fronting  the  storm  or  the  fire  of  the  foe  in  his  forces ; 
Yours  be  the  honour  of  all  that  we  are  or  shall  be ! 

Glorious  Eyes  of  the  Sea ! 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND? 

A    QUESTION    OF    THE    MOMENT 

YES,  all  is  well ! 

Or,  rather,  let  us  say  all  will  be  well !  And  in  our 
steady  progress  towards  future  good  we  may  confidently 
aver  that  all  is  well  even  now.  Even  now !  though  the 
great  "spring-cleaning"  of  the  Empire's  house  is  scarce- 
ly half-way  through.  Our  home  is 'topsy-turvy,  familiar 
objects  are  thrust  aside,  our  goods  and  chattels  are 
disarranged  and  turned  out  to  be  swept  or  beaten  or 
otherwise  relieved  of  their  accumulated  dust  and  cob- 
webs, and  the  clatter  of  brooms  and  pails  and  general 
hurry-scurry,  with  many  irreparable  breakages,  make 
comfort  and  quiet  impossible.  Yet  there  is  a  freshness 
in  the  air,  the  windows  have  been  cleaned,  and  one  can 
see  the  sky  through  their  lately  begrimed  and  sooty 
panes,  the  floors  are  swept  and  the  furniture  polished ; 
deft  hands  are  arranging  flowers  for  the  rooms — we  may 
breathe  in  health  and  hope  if  we  will. 

There  is  much  yet  to  be  done,  for  the  cleansing  of  a 
nation  is  God's  work  more  than  ours,  and  He  leaves  no 
corner  unvisited.  He  has  not  done  with  England  yet, 
no,  not  by  any  means !  The  festering  mass  of  diseased 
moral  fibre  resulting  from  a  long  worship  of  Self,  the 
canker  in  the  body  social  and  politic,  has  to  be  cut  out 
ruthlessly,  despite  bleeding  veins  and  torn  sinews,  and 
God  will  not  .spare  the  remedial  knife. 

171 


172  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

But  even  so,  it  is  well  for  England !  Well,  and  more 
than  well !  For  no  greater  ill  could  chance  to  her  than 
her  condition  prior  to  the  war. 

Far  more  injurious  to  her  fair  fame  than  the  mur- 
derous attacks  of  the  most  dishonourable  and  unscrupu- 
lous enemy  she  has  ever  known  was  the  stealthy  under- 
mining of  her  people's  ideals  through  the  slow  hut  sure 
rot  which  had  begun  to  set  in  at  the  very  core  of  her 
civilian  life.  That  rot  was  eating  its  way  through 
commerce  and  crumbling  down  every  bulwark  of  soci- 
ety. Its  ravaging  microbes  swarmed  through  every 
channel — the  pulpit,  the  stage,  and  all  forms  of  art. 
Through  its  influence  the  abominable  crimes  of  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  were  re-enacted  and  condoned,  both  in 
the  political  and  social  world.  By  gradual  and  subtle 
process,  step  by  step  on  the  downward  grade,  the  un- 
thinking public  were  led  by  certain  writers  of  the  Press 
who  are  special  pleaders  for  vice,  to  accept  sensuality 
as  the  only  meaning  of  love,  and  every  town  possessing 
a  bookseller's  shop  was  flooded  with  published  out- 
pourings of  sickly  and  degrading  sexuality,  insulting  to 
the  self-respect  of  men  and  women,  old  and  young 
alike.  Girls  and  boys  hardly  in  their  teens  carried  these 
vile  books  in  their  hands,  and  read  and  discussed  them 
without  shame.  Their  poisonous  trail  is  over  many  a 
young  mind,  and  the  mischief  they  have  wrought  will, 
take  years  of  undoing. 

This  kind  of  pernicious  literature,  coupled  with  a 
"sensational"  Press,  by  which  I  mean  that  side  of  the 
Press  which  truckles  to  the  baser  inclinations  of  man- 
kind, and  flaunts  pictorial  representations  of  semi-nude 
women  of  the  stage  and  of  the  demoralised  portion  of 
Society  in  the  eyes  of  decent  folk  whether  they  will  or 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND?       173 

no,  is  in  a  great  measure  responsible  for  the  reckless- 
ness, extravagance,  sloth,  and  selfishness  which  have 
disfigured  social  England  for  the  past  decade. 

Things  were  getting  worse  and  worse;  men  who 
truckled  to  vice  were  paid  with  baronetcies  as  "hush- 
money,"  women  passing  for  "ladies,"  lower  than  the 
lowest  of  street  sinners,  because  they  had  education 
and  opportunities  which  the  street  sinner  has  not,  were 
praised  as  embodiments  of  all  the  beauties  and  all 
the  virtues,  and  "home,"  that  dear  possession  of  the 
faithful  soul,  was  voted  "dull"  by  the  younger  folk, 
because  of  its  wholesome  restrictions  on  harmful  im- 
pulses and  runaway  passions. 

And  let  us  not  imagine  these  clouds  on  the  sun  of 
our  country  have  yet  passed  away.  They  are  passing, 
but  the  full  splendour  of  the  light  is  not  yet.  "Home, 
dull  Home,"  is  coming  back  to  its  own  as  "Home,  sweet 
Home"  once  more,  because  a  dark  and  threatening  des- 
tiny has  torn  sons  from  their  mothers,  and  has  broken 
up  dear  associations  which  were  unvalued,  because  pos- 
sessed. Now  that  death  has  darkened  many  windows 
and  shut  many  doors,  the  bereaved  ones  begin  to  realise 
what  "home"  really  was  in  the  past  days  of  peace,  and 
what  it  never  will  be  again ;  while  those  that  are  absent 
on  the  battlefield,  amid  the  roar  of  the  guns  and  the 
storm  of  shot  and  shell,  turn  back  wistfully  to  the 
memory  of  days  spent  "at  home,"  in  a  tranquillity  of 
mind  and  body  that  seemed  "dull,"  but  that  now  shines 
forth  in  the  visions  of  the  brain  as  a  reflex  of  positive 
heaven. 

Few,  I  think,  have  taken  the  trouble  to  consider 
what  this  Empire  would  become  without  the  saving 
grace  of  "Home" — that  oasis  in  the  desert  where  love 


174  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

has  its  best  chance  and  friendship  its  surest  footing. 

It  is  in  very  truth  the  foundation  of  national  safety 
and  the  basis  of  educational  progress,  and  yet  it  is 
what  a  very  large  majority  of  us  have  lately  esteemed 
but  lightly,  moved  as  we  have  been  by  a  spirit  of 
strange  unrest,  impelling  us  to  wander  hither  and 
thither  in  search  of  satisfaction  which,  after  all  our 
quest,  awaits  us  at  our  own  door. 

Suppose  that  one  and  all  we  ran  "amok"  in  the 
liberty  which  speedily  degenerates  into  license,  without 
any  restraining  hand?  Would  it  be  "well  for  Eng- 
land" then  ?  We  know  it  would  not,  yet  if  our  young 
people  are  brought  up  to  disdain  and  to  neglect  their 
parents,  and  "friends"  so-called,  only  seek  other 
"friends"  in  order  to  make  use  of  them  for  their  own 
ends,  the  social  code  will  be  one  of  pure  egotism  without 
a  shred  of  conscience  to  soften  its  hard  and  fast  self- 
seeking.  This  would  not  be  "well  for  England,"  and 
from  this  point  of  view  alone  we  have  to  be  thankful 
for  the  scourge  of  this  terrific  war.  For  here  God  has 
taken  the  lead.  He  has  indeed  "put  down  the  mighty 
from  their  seat,  and  has  exalted  the  humble  and  meek," 
for  the  humblest  ranks  of  our  British  fighting  men 
are  heroes  to-day,  and  the  true  spirit  and  mettle  of  the 
British  race,  long  suppressed  beneath  a  featherbed  soft- 
ness of  prolonged  peace,  have  sprung  up  in  splendid  and 
unbroken  strength,  proving  in  deeds  more  than  words 
that  "all  is  well  with  England !" 

No  praise  can  be  too  high  for  their  courage,  cheer- 
fulness, and  self-sacrifice ;  the  sword  of  their  unquench- 
able valour  has  long  been  sheathed,  but  it  has  not  grown 
rusty — the  blade  is  as  bright  as  ever  it  was. 

This  is  something  to  be  proud  of,  something  for  us 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND?       175 

'to  remember  when  inclined  to  pessimism.  We  have 
nothing  to  fear  on  the  score  of  our  warriors  who  have 
gone  forth  in  the  flower  of  their  manhood,  to  contend 
with  and  to  conquer  a  brutal  foe ;  and,  if  the  creeping 
suggestion  that  all  is  not  well  with  England  steals  into 
our  minds,  it  is  on  account  of  traitors  at  home. 

Yes,  there  is  a  dire  possibility  of  mischief,  a  chance 
of  infinite  harm  being  wrought  on  England,  and  on  the 
whole  British  Empire  by  the  avarice  and  short-sighted- 
ness of  some  of  our  leading  men  who  have  "axes  to 
grind." 

It  may  be  unpleasant  to  face  the  truth,  but  surely 
it  is  wiser  and  safer  to  do  so  than  to  wait  till  it  over- 
whelms us.  And  the  merest  tyro  in  diplomacy,  the 
most  casual  looker-on  at  the  moves  on  the  political 
chess-board,  can  see  how  many  a  man  "in  official  capac- 
ity" is  playing  the  German  game,  and  manoeuvring 
towards  a  patched-up  "peace"  which  shall  give  Germany 
every  possible  trade  advantage. 

The  people's  confidence  is  being  daily  betrayed  by 
such  treacherous  hypocrites,  some  of  whom  have  finan- 
cial interests  closely  bound  in  with  Germany,  and  who 
hesitate  and  shuffle  and  delay  action  indefinitely,  though 
the  slaughter  of  innocent  thousands  may  pay  the  price 
of  their  ineptitude. 

In  such  scandalous  matters,  all  is  not  well  with 
England — and  all  will  never  be  well,  unless  the  people 
take  a  hand  against  their  own  spoliation  and  betrayal. 
And  they  cannot  begin  too  soon.  The  house  of  the 
nation  is  being  "swept  and  garnished."  We  shall  need 
to  take  care  that  the  "unclean  spirit"  of  Germany  does 
not  take  "seven  other  spirits  more  wicked"  to  "enter  in 


1Y6  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

and  dwell  there,"  so  that  "the  last  state"  of  that  house 
be  not  "worse  than  the  first." 

We  need  the  resolved  spirit  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
whose  proclamation  against  certain  troublesome  foreign- 
ers "which  had  flocked  to  the  coast  towns  of  England" 
in  1560,  commanded  that  they  "should  depart  the  realm 
within  twenty  days,"  whether  they  liked  it  or  not,  "upon 
pain  of  imprisonment  or  loss  of  goods."  Queen  Bess 
did  not  put  on  gloves  when  dealing  with  treachery ;  she 
hit  it  fair  and  square  in  the  face.  We  should  do  wisely 
to  imitate  her  example. 

No  great  reforms  are  ever  accomplished  without 
opposition  from  prejudiced  and  self-interested  persons, 
and  it  needs  a  strong  soul  to  stand  firm  and  full-fronted 
against  malcontents,  and  to  steadily  baffle  political 
intrigues.  With  these  latter,  the  Ministry  is  hemmed 
in  and  environed,  and  it  is  a  regrettable  fact  that  in 
some  quarters  "party"  is  ready  to  overwhelm  patriot- 
ism, despite  all  plausible  assurances  to  the  contrary. 

On  this  point  I  would  venture,  as  an  independent 
writer  who  has  no  favours  to  seek  and  no  "axe  to 
grind,"  to  warn  our  more  or  less  passive,  silent,  and 
patient  people  of  dangers  ahead. 

The  people  are  the  nation,  the  people  whose  labour 
makes  the  wealth  of  the  country  are  the  worth  of  the 
country;  and  for  them  the  name  of  Britain  should 
represent  all  things  British.  J3ut  unless  they  them- 
selves take  good  care,  their  trades  will  be  again  swamped 
by  Germany  in  the  future  as  in  the  past,  especially  if 
they  put  in  less  hours  of  work.  It  stands  to  reason 
that  if  a  British  workman  will  only  work  for  eight 
hours,  and  a  German  will  work  for  fourteen  or  sixteen, 
the  German  will  score  in  every  kind  of  labour. 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND  ?       ITT 

Even  now  the  German  is  preparing  for  the  relaxing 
of  "restricted"  trades.  The  goods  which  the  British 
Government  declared  "unnecessary"  in  time  of  war  are 
being  "made  in  Germany,"  and  at  an  opportune  moment 
will  be  "dumped  down"  on  these  shores  before  the 
Englishman,  returned  from  battle,  can  so  much  as  set 
his  house  in  order. 

We  may  think,  or  we  may  hope,  that  protection 
against  such  unfairness  will  be  guaranteed  by  Govern- 
ment— but  will  it?  Does  it  look  like  it  even  now? — 
when  Germans  are  permitted  to  run  the  business  of 
absent  Englishmen,  and  to  make  profit  therefrom! 

Sometimes  it  would  almost  seem  as  if  there  were  a 
certain  numbness  or  apathy  in  the  minds  of  the  British 
people  here  at  home,  which  robs  them  of  "the  native 
hue  of  resolution,"  so  that  in 

"Enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment 
With  this  regard  their  currents  turn  awry 
And  lose  the  name  of  action." 

There  is  a  general  tendency  not  to  take  too  much 
personal  trouble  over  any  matter,  a  desire  to  avoid 
"being  bothered,"  and  a  persistent  jog-trot  in  the  same 
old  way,  like  "dumb,  driven  cattle,"  no  matter  whether 
the  road  lead  to  prosperity  or  ruin.  This  is  like  the 
fatal  lethargy  which  overcomes  the  traveller  in  heavy 
snow,  when  he  yields  himself  to  a  sleep  from,  which 
he  shall  never  wake. 

Half  the  people  in  these  islands  do  not  yet  realise 
the  full  meaning  or  the  real  horror  of  the  war  in  which 
we  have  been  forced,  by  all  the  rights  of  law  and 
liberty,  to  engage.  They  do  not  think — they  cannot. 


178  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Their  sense  of  perception  seems  stunned  as  by  a  heavy 
blow.  All  religion,  all  faith,  all  hope,  have  in  a  great 
measure  failed  them.  They  do  not  see  why  they  should 
suffer  undeservedly. 

A  poor  woman  receiving  the  news  that  her  son  was 
killed,  had  no  tears — her  face  grew  white  and  stiffened, 
as  with  frost — but  she  had  nothing  to  say  except  this : 
"Ah,  well !  I  couldn't  expect  anything  else,  as  there's 
no  God  left  to  us  now!  Only  man,  the  devil!"  She 
could  but  realise  that  the  war  is  man's  work — the  result 
of  his  miserable  ambitions,  his  delight  in  destruction, 
his  selfish  pride  and  cruelty.  And  the  church  had 
taught  her  little  more  than  that  the  God  she  was  told 
to  worship  was  "a  jealous  God,"  and  out  of  that  saying 
little  comfort  can  be  drawn  for  the  broken  heart  of  a 
bereaved  mother. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  terrible  notes  struck  from 
the  great  thunder-echoes  of  the  war  is  this  apparent 
failure  of  all  churches  to  cope  with  the  sorrow  that  has 
swept  over  all  lands,  destroying  homes  that  were  once 
happy. 

Our  Lord's  pitiful  and  pathetic  words  are  realised 
to-day: — "Because  iniquity  shall  abound  the  love  of 
many  shall  grow  cold."  Ah,  yes,  love  for  Him  and 
all  the  tenderness  He  taught  has  "grown  cold,"  and 
many  of  His  professed  ministers  are  tongue-tied  and 
spirit-frozen,  and  seem  all  unable  to  raise  the  broken 
lives  from  the  dust  of  despair,  or  dry  the  weeping  eyes 
which  are  too  tired  and  heavy  to  lift  themselves  to 
heaven. 

There  is  a  strong  instinctive  sense  among  us  all,  no 
matter  to  what  sect  we  belong  or  what  religious  formula 
we  profess,  that  if  the  churches  had  ever  truly  taught 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLATO?       179 

and  truly  followed  the  example  of  Christ,  war  and  its 
horrors  would  have  been  impossible.  For  He  gave  us 
only  two  commandments — two  instead  of  the  Mosaic  ten 
— thus : — 

"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart 
and  with  all  thy  soul  and  with  all  thy  mind.  This  is 
the  first  and  great  commandment.  And  the  second  is 
like  unto  it — thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself. 
On  these  two  commandments  hang  all  the  law  and  the 
prophets." 

Who  is  there  that  can  deny  that  if  these  two  com- 
mandments had  been  obeyed  by  man  in  his  social  and 
civil  life,  the  whole  face  of  things  would  have  changed 
to  an  almost  divine  betterment,  and  the  world's  progress, 
assisted  by  a  sanity  of  thought  and  a  clarity  of  action, 
would  have  been  towards  beauty  and  spiritual  uplift- 
ing? 

The  word  "spiritual"  is  sadly  wronged  and  degraded 
nowadays  by  misguided  or  semi-crazed  persons  who 
"blaspheme  the  Holy  Ghost"  by  their  pretensions  to 
psychic  power,  and  play  with  the  names  of  scared  things 
in  order  to  further  their  own  sinister  designs.  Our 
Lord  prophesied  this  evil  when  He  spoke  of  "false 
prophets"  who  should  "show  signs  and  wonders,"  inso- 
much "that  if  it  were  possible  they  shall  deceive  the 
very  elect." 

Is  it  not  a  fact  that  we  have  come  upon  such  days  ? 
Days  when  the  pure,  simple,  and  helpful  ethics  of 
Christ  are  set  aside  in  exchange  for  an  insane  credence 
in  the  vlugar  trickery  of  "mediumship,"  "crystal- 
gazing,"  and  other  base  forms  of  superstition  pertaining 
to  the  eras  of  ignorant  barbarism?  Does  it  seem  be- 
lievable that  there  should  be  so-called  "intellectual" 


180  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

men  in  this  country,  even  statesmen  of  admitted  ability, 
who  are  actually  partially  under  the  sway  of  illiterate 
"mediums,"  generally  women,  who  pretend  to  hold 
communication  with  the  dead,  and  even  presume  to 
offer  advice  from  the  "spirits"  on  the  affairs  of  the 
nation  and  the  prosecution  of  the  war?  One  could 
hardly  imagine  a  wilder  improbability,  yet  it  is  an 
absolute  fact!  The  names  of  persons  in  high  and 
trusted  positions  are  on  the  books  of  the  unscrupulous 
jugglers  and  tricksters  who  earn  their  wicked  living  by 
mischievous  tampering  with  the  brains  of  their  dupes 
and  victims,  and  the  wonder  is  that  these  notabilities 
should  so  feebly  allow  themselves  to  be  duped  and  vic- 
timized. But  one  has  only  to  think  of  t-he  entire  sub- 
mission of  the  Komanoffs  to  the  villainous  machinations 
of  that  unspeakable  "monk,"  Rasputin,  to  realize  that 
there  is  no  depth  of  abasement  to  which  the  human  mind 
may  not  fall  if  it  loses  its  hold  on  God. 

It  has  to  be  confessed  there  are  very  few  indications 
of  real  religion  among  us  at  present.  A  large  portion 
of  the  clergy  seem  stricken  with  ineptitude,  and  one 
longs  for  a  strong  man  who  would  not  only  preach  the 
truth,  but  live  it.  A  narrow  egotism  disfigures  the 
ministering  spirit  of  the  Church,  and  I  could  name  more 
than  one  cleric  whose  absorption  in  self  entirely  blinds 
him  to  the  real  duties  he  is  called  upon  to  do. 

The  service  of  Christ  should  be  broad  and  all- 
embracing,  generous,  cheerful,  ungrudging,  and  untir- 
ing in  the  aid  of  all  humanity,  rich  and  poor,  old  and 
young,  sinful  and  sorry,  and  only  men  who  are  prepared 
to  work  on  these  lines  should  be  admitted  to  such  a 
high  and  holy  calling. 

But  things  are  moving,  and  will  move  in  the  right 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND?       181 

direction  presently ;  when  the  roar  of  the  guns  has  died 
away  and  the  memory  of  our  slain  heroes  weighs  on  our 
stricken  souls  with  sorrow  and  shame,  and  we  have  time 
to  reflect  that  it  is  for  us  and  the  saving  of  our  honour 
that  they  have  died. 

We  shall  then  lift  our  eyes  to  Him  from  Whom 
cometh  our  strength,  we  shall  unite  in  a  grand  revolt 
against  hypocrisy  and  shams ;  we  shall  hold  our  homes 
more  preciously,  seeing  and  knowing  what  blood  has 
been  shed  to  keep  them  inviolate,  and  we  shall  value 
simplicity  and  purity  of  life  for  ourselves  and  our 
children  far  more  than  wealth  and  the  fleeting,  feverish 
pleasures  which  wealth  can  attain. 

In  this  new  dawn  of  our  day  it  will  be  well  for 
England ! 

One  of  the  happiest  and  most  hopeful  auguries  for 
the  future  is  the  stimulus  given  to  agriculture  and  the 
"life  of  the  land"  by  the  necessity  of  providing  food 
supplies  for  our  own  people  on  our  own  soil. 

The  menace  of  the  submarine  has  done  this  for  us, 
and  devastating  as  its  brutal  work  has  been,  we  may 
regard  it  as  a  blessing  in  disguise.  For  we  should  not 
need  to  depend  on  foreign  imports  of  food  if  we  utilised 
our  own  acreage  as  fully  and  diligently  as  we  might. 

Life  in  the  country,  work  in  the  country,  means 
health  and  a  light  heart;  and  many  there  are  who 
would  like  to  see  the  olden  days  of  purely  native  pro- 
duction come  back  again — the  days  of  home  spinning, 
home  weaving,  home  manufacture  of  every  kind  carried 
on  in  all  the  towns  and  villages  of  rural  England. 

Here  and  there  of  late  years  there  have  been  some 
efforts  in  this  direction — there  is  a  spinning  and  weav- 
ing school  at  Haslemere,  at  Stratford-on-Avon,  and 


182  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

elsewhere — but  the  support  given  to  these  praiseworthy 
industries  is  not  sufficiently  certain  and  prolonged  to 
push  them  with  sufficient  prominence  into  the  public 
notice.  Nevertheless,  many  a  woman  helps  the  move- 
ment by  electing  to  wear  only  home-woven  goods ;  they 
are  beautiful  and  artistic  enough  to  deserve  patronage, 
and  can  be  purchased  direct  from  the  weavers  and  spin- 
ners without  the  intervention  of  the  middle-man  whose 
business  is  "profiteering." 

What  an  England  it  might  be — what  an  England  it 
will  be — when  every  acre  of  suitable  soil  bears  its 
weight  of  golden  grain! — when  every  orchard's  value 
can  be  appraised  by  its  measure  of  luscious  fruit! — 
when  farmyards  are  full  of  cattle,  and  good  wives  are 
so  clever  at  poultry  and  dairy  work  that  the  country 
can  do  without  "millions  of  foreign  eggs" — having  such 
"millions"  of  its  own — and  when  prosperous  farms  in 
the  country  are  esteemed  more  valuable  possessions  than 
houses  in  town,  where  money  is  often  uselessly  wasted 
on  so-called  "pleasures"  which  have  their  end  in  dam- 
aged health  and  "vexation  of  spirit" ! 

To  my  own  mind  there  is  nothing  more  lovely  or  more 
satisfying  than  the  life  of  the  country,  where  one  may 
see  the  real  breadth  of  the  sky,  and  feel  the  real  freshness 
of  the  air. 

In  great  cities,  where  humanity  is  a  mere  hive,  th§ 
houses  of  brick  and  stone  block  out  the  sky  and  impede 
the  air,  and  somehow  one  imagines  that  God  is  a  long 
way  off,  while  in  the  country  He  seems  "nearer  than 
hands  and  feet."  Everything  speaks  of  His  infinite 
care  and  providence — the  birds,  the  flowers,  the  trees, 
the  murmur  of  the  leaves  that  clap  together  like  little 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND  ?       183 

fairy  hands  in  the  windy  and  the  low,  sweet,  sigh  that 
sways  through  the  long  grass  at  sunset. 

The  nearer  man  approaches  to  Nature,  the  more  he 
becomes  conscious  of  a  Divine,  mysterious  Presence  to 
which  his  whole  being  instinctively,  though  almost  un- 
consciously, responds  as  "Our  Father." 

In  the  rush  and  roar  of  great  cities  he  loses  this 
delicate  intimacy  with  his  own  origin,  and  all  that  is 
or  might  be  divine  in  himself  becomes  lowered  to  the 
level  of  gross  material  needs  and  ideas  which  are  the 
reflex  of  the  coarser  atmosphere  around  him. 

The  dweller  among  country  sights  and  scenes  is  an 
idealist — sometimes  even  a  poet)  though  he  may  never 
express  himself  in  words — and  many  an  ordinary  lab- 
ourer turning  the  rich  clods  of  soil  with  the  plough  can 
be  found  who  will  at  times  say  things  both  trenchant 
and  eloquent  which  will  give  food  for  thought  to  the 
most  cultivated  stylist. 

Some  people  imagine  that  cities  educate,  and  that  the 
country  does  not;  but  one  may  question  whether  it  is 
not  quite  the  other  way  about.  In  any  case,  the  life  of 
the  country  makes  for  health  and  strength,  and  these 
are  two  potent  factors  for  happiness.  No  man  can  be 
happy  or  contented  if  he  is  ailing  and  weakly,  and  in 
our  many  "new"  systems  of  education,  which  are  now 
being  so  much  talked  of,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  health 
for  the  children  will  be  the  first  thing  to  be  considered 
and  maintained. 

Here  I  may  perhaps  touch  upon  a  point  where  one 
may  trust  that  "all  is  well  with  England,"  in  the  im- 
mense change  the  war  has  wrought  as  regards  the  posi- 
tion of  women  in  the  State. 

Some  years  ago  I  was  one  of  the  many  who  were 


184  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

strongly  opposed  to  the  "Votes  for  Women"  movement, 
judging  it  to  be  wholly  unnecessary. 

I  had  been  brought  up  on  the  chivalric  view  of  man 
as  taken  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  his  immortal  romances, 
and  my  idea,  gathered  from  these  exalted  specimens 
of  the  race,  was  that  as  man  was  always  ready  to  wor- 
ship woman  it  seemed  invidious  on  her  part  to  contend 
with  him  in  his  own  particular  sphere.  But  when  it 
was  forced  on  me  that,  more  often  than  not,  man  was 
more  ready  to  deride  rather  than  worship  woman,  that 
the  special  "strain"  of  Walter  Scott's  heroes  was  in 
Walter  Scott's  delightful  imagination  only,  and  that  as 
a  matter  of  fact  men  denied  to  women  such  lawful 
honours  as  they  might  win  through  intellectual  attain- 
ment, and  that  in  certain  forms  of  their  legal  procedure 
women  were  classed  with  "children,  criminals,  and  luna- 
tics," I  began  to  change  my  opinion. 

I  thought  that  if  the  mothers  of  the  race  were  to  be 
assorted  with  "criminals  and  lunatics,"  the  men  they 
had  given  birth  to  might  be,  in  their  toleration  of  such 
a  stigma,  criminals  and  luriatics  themselves.  And 
when  the  war  broke  out  and  all  the  world  raised  itself, 
as  it  were,  on  tiptoe  to  see  what  was  going  to  happen, 
and  beheld  among  many  marvels  perhaps  the  greatest 
marvel  of  all — the  women  going  forth  to  work  in  the 
places  of  men,  going  in  thousands,  without  demur  or 
hesitation,  and  taking  their  full  share  of  the  hardest 
and  most  menial  labour  with  a  cheerfulness  and  spirit 
no  less  remarkable  than  the  intelligence  with  which 
they  handled  difficulties  hitherto  unknown,  it  was  no 
longer  possible  to  deny  them  equal  rights  with  men  in 
every  relation  of  life  and  every  phase  of  work.  By  every 
law  of  justice  they  deserved  the  vote — and  I  who?  as  a 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND  ?        185 

woman,  was  once  against  it,  am  bound  to  support  the 
cause.  All  the  same  I  shall  be  sorry  to  see  them  in 
Parliament;  deeply  sorry  to  find  them  straying  so  far 
out  of  their  higher  and  far  more  influential  sphere.  The 
vanishing  of  modest  and  refined  womanhood  will  prove 
a  greater  loss  to  the  nation  than  any  other  asset  of  its 
power  and  renown.  No  woman  can  mingle  with  the 
mess  of  political  intrigue  without  losing  something  of 
the  charm  and  reticence  originally  in  her  nature,  which 
has  inspired  men  to  their  noblest  aims  and  ends.  I 
imagine  that  a  true  woman  would  rather  be  the  Ma- 
donna of  a  Faith  than  the  Premier  of  an  Empire ! 

Nevertheless  I  grant  freely  and  fully  that  it  will  be 
"well  for  England"  when  women  have  a  voice  in  the 
education  of  children,  and  when  they  can  refuse  to 
"temporise"  on  questions  of  the  national  morality  and 
well-being. 

The  recent  "food  muddle"  under  the  management 
of  men  is  a  proof,  if  one  were  needed,  of  the  superiority 
of  women  in  all  matters  of  domestic  management,  for 
any  capable  housekeeper  would  have  organised  the 
scheme  with  better  knowledge  and  finer  tact.  That 
there  will  be  jealousy  and  injustice  displayed  by  the 
stronger  sex  towards  the  weaker  on  this  matter  of 
the  vote,  goes  without  saying.  (But  jealousy  and  injus- 
tice exist  anyhow,  and  a  proof  of  man's  inconsistency 
towards  women  in  matters  of  art  alone  is  furnished  by 
the  purchase  of  Lucy  Kemp-Welsh's  fine  picture  "For- 
ward the  guns !"  in  the  Royal  Academy,  which  has  been 
bought  "for  the  nation"  Yet,  mark  you,  though  this 
woman's  work  is  considered  worthy  of  national  keeping, 
she  herself  may  not  be  admitted  as  an  R.  A. !  Comment 
is  superfluous.  But  it  is  possible  that  the  granting  of 


186  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

votes  to  women  will  alter  all  this,  and  that  the  barriers 
which  the  men  have  carefully  erected  against  the  sex 
of  their  mothers  will  be  broken  down  for  good. 

The  Jewish  dispensation  has  to  be  credited  for  the 
rule  of  "keeping  women  in  their  place,"  along  with 
flocks  and  herds.  But  the  Christian  dispensation 
teaches  a  lovelier  lesson — for  a  woman  was  the  first  to 
hold  the  God-Man  in  her  arms,  and  a  woman  was  the 
first  to  greet  Him  on  His  resurrection  from  the  dead. 

Does  this  teach  nothing  ?  Is  there  no  symbol  of  the 
future  of  womanhood  thus  gloriously  foreshadowed? 
I  venture  to  think  there  is. 

I  believe  and  hope  that  a  wider  freedom  to  woman 
will  mean  a  nobler  heritage  to  man,  and  that  through 
her  intelligence  and  influence  he  may  find  and  prove 
the  "god"  in  him,  and  rise  from  the  grave  of  old  preju- 
dice to  the  light  of  more  brilliant  possibilities.  And 
this  will  be  "well  for  England." 

Many  changes  are  bound  to  come,  many  sorrowful 
and  tragic  happenings  are  yet  in  store  for  this  dear 
country,  but  "it  is  well"  that  so  these  things  should  be, 
to  the  end  that  we  realise  where  we  have  missed  tho 
way,  and  take  heed  that  we  stumble  not  again. 

The  secret  of  our  regeneration  is  not  in  this  or  that 
government ;  it  is  with  the  people. 

Yet  on  the  whole,  despite  clouds  in  our  sky,  it  is  well 
for  England  so  far.  We  shall  come  out  of  the  darkness 
if — if  the  people  will  it.  Up  to  the  present  they  have 
grudged  nothing — neither  time,  nor  labour,  nor  money, 
nor  sacrifice.  They  have  been  in  every  sense  worthy  of 
British  tradition — a  people  splendid.  ]STow  it  is  that 
they  must  see  they  do  not  fall  a  prey  to  "party"  traps, 
designed  for  the  safeguarding  of  Germany  in  those 


IS  ALL  WELL  WITH  ENGLAND?       1ST 

quarters  where  British  financial  interests  are  concerned. 

I  repeat,  "All  is  well  with  England!" — all  will  be 
well — if  the  people  are  awake  and  alert,  if  they  will 
unite  to  remove  the  German  foe  from  their  midst,  and 
if  they  will  in  time  remember  the  old  proverb  which 
says,  "It's  no  use  shutting  the  stable  door  when  the 
horse  is  stolen."  The  German  has  the  fixed  intention 
of  re-monopolising  trade  when  the  war  is  over,  and 
already  our  Indian  Empire  is  in  advance  of  us  by  the 
ban  announced  against  German  trade  in  India,  and 
the  barring  of  German  ships  from  Indian  ports. 

Decisive  action  must  be  taken  in  these  matters  before 
it  is  too  late.  British  trade  interests,  British  artisans, 
British  workers  of  all  classes  must  be  defended  and 
protected  and  encouraged. 

The  agricultural  arts  and  sciences  must  be  made  a 
primary  matter  of  education  for  the  people,  and  our 
productive  soil  must  be  given  a  fair  chance.  Land- 
owners who  have  held  thousands  of  acres  for  the 
pleasure  of  sport  alone  must  yield  to  the  necessity  of 
feeding  men  instead  of  preserving  game,  and  a  pros- 
perous, smiling  England,  "a  land  flowing  with  milk 
and  honey,"  will  be  the  reward  of  all  those  who  steadily 
set  their  energies  to  work  in  the  right  direction,  that 
right  direction  being  always  for  the  good  of  the  many 
and  not  for  self  or  the  few.  It  should  surely  be  the 
aim  of  every  true  patriot  to  leave  his  country  better 
than  he  found  it,  and  all  personal  interest  should  and 
must  go  to  the  wall  where  the  welfare  of  the  people 
is  at  all  concerned.  The  trend  of  thought  is  all  in  this 
one  way,  for  which  we  may  thank  God.  A  renewed 
faith  in  the  highest,  a  return  to  the  devotional  spirit 
of  true  religion,  and  a  resolve  to  root  out  from  every 


188  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

educational  system,  from  every  art,  from  every  form 
of  literature  all  that  makes  for  evil  and  degradation; 
this  will  ensure  all  being  "well  for  England,"  so  well, 
that  neither  the  hatred,  envy,  nor  malice  of  rivals  can 
move  her  from  her  sure  foundations  of  peace. 

She  should  be,  and  she  must  be  great  and  pure,  with 
the  greatness  and  pureness  for  which  our  heroes  have 
fought  in  the  past,  and  for  which  they  fight  to-day, 
and  for  this  high  cause,  though  we  mourn  our  slain 
manhood,  we  must  grudge  no  sacrifice,  however  hard. 
We  have  not  grudged  anything  as  yet — we  shall  never 
begin  to  do  so.  And  so  both  now  and  in  the  days  to 
come,  through  God's  mercy,  may  we  ever  be  able  to 
say— 

'"All  is  well  with  England  I" 

(When  the  above  was  first  issued  as  a  booklet  by  the 
publishers,  Messrs.  Greening,  it  elicited  a  long  and 
eloquent  letter  from  the  "St.  Andrews  Society,"  asking 
me  why  I  addressed  my  pamphlet  to  England  ?  Where 
was  Scotland  in  my  thoughts?  Knowing  the  curious 
prejudice  some  Scotsmen  entertain  for  the  word  "Eng- 
land" (which  I  have  liked  to  imagine  included  Scotland, 
Ireland,  and  Wales),  I  made  haste  to  reply  that  I  had 
not  presumed  to  ask  "Is  all  well  with  Scotland  ?"  as  I 
know  all  must  be  well,  and  that  all  would  be  for  ever 
well!  How  could  anything  go  ill  with  Scotland1}  I 
do  not  know  whether  I  satisfied  my  truculent  correspon- 
dent, but  I  hope  I  did.) 


THE  WORLD  IN  TEAES 

( The  following  was  written  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Robert  Hayes, 
the  publisher,  who  asked  for  it  as  a  preface  to  a  helpful  little  book 
of  "Messages  of  Hope,  Sympathy,  and  Consolation,"  entitled  THE 
WORLD  IN  TEAKS.  Those  who  contributed  to  this  book  included 
many  well-known  "leaders,"  such  as  the  Bisiliop  of  Birmingham, 
the  Archdeacon  of  Westminster,  the  Dean  of  Manchester,  etc.,  etc., 
and  the  publisher  introduced  my  article  in  the  following  kindly 
note: — 

In  preparing  the  book  for  Press  it  loos  thought  desirable  to 
obtain,  and  include,  an  introduction  by  an  author  whose  sym- 
pathies would  commend  it  to  the  general  public.  Miss  Marie 
Corelli  immediately  came  to  mind.  No  one  could  essay  the  task 
better. 

To  Miss  Marie  Corelli,  then,  the  publisher  wrote  for  assistance. 
It  icas  generously,  courteously,  and  promptly  given.  His  best 
thanks  are  recorded  here  for  this  able  and  kindly  help  in  pro- 
ducing what  he  hopes  will  bring  comfort  to  a  multitude  who  sor- 
row and  some  financial  assistance  to  that  benevolent  and  deserv- 
ing institution,  the  British  Red  Cross  Society.) 


ALL  over  the  world  to-day  looms  the  brooding  shadow 
of  Death — that  strange  and  solemn  Mystery  which  to 
most  of  us  seems  a  complete  Disappearance  for  ever 
into  the  eternal  Unknown.  Though  truly,  if  our  faith 
in  God  be  perfect,  we  should  not  look  upon  it  as  a 
Shadow,  but  a  Brightness;  a  glorious  fulfilment  for 
which  the  experiences  and  trials  of  this  present  life  are 
the  needful  training  and  preparation.  Nevertheless,  the 
ties  of  human  affection  are  strong,  and  partings  are 

189 


190  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

always  bitter — so  that  whether  our  beloved  ones  go 
away  from  us  for  weeks,  months,  or  years— whether 
to  a  far  country  or  to  another  world — it  is  hard  to  say 
"good-bye !"  and  the  sorrow  of  separation  is  the  sorrow 
of  all  the  lives  that  are  left  thus  lonely.  The  strongest 
and  bravest  of  us  know  well  enough  that  those  we 
have  lost  are  not  really  "dead,"  but  living  elsewhere; 
yet  the  fact  that  they  are  not  actually  with  us — that 
we  cannot  hear  their  voices  or  hold  their  hands  in  our 
own — is  sufficient  to  crush  us  down  under  such  a  burden 
of  grief  that  we  feel  as  if  we  could  never  lift  up  our 
eyes  to  heaven  again  or  trust  the  great  Power  Invisible 
which  has  allowed  us  to  be  deprived  of  all  we  hold 
most  dear.  Nothing  can  be  said  in  the  way  of  con- 
solation that  does  not,  at  such  a  time,  sound  poor  and 
trivial.  A  great  grief  is  of  all  things  the  most  sacred : 
and  even  the  gentle  words  of  the  gentlest  and  most 
compassionate  friend  hurt  like  a  careless  touch  on  an 
open  wound. 

In  this  unspeakably  wicked  War  much  of  our  best 
and  bravest  iBritish  manhood  has  been  sacrificed,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  terrible  losses  suffered  by  our  noble  and 
resolute  Allies.  Young,  promising,  and  heroic  lives 
have  been  ruthlessly  slaughtered  on  all  the  fields  of 
battle,  and  it  would  not  be  too  much  to  say  that  the 
whole  of  Europe  is  in  mourning.  It  is  the  hour  of 
supreme  self-sacrifice;  we  are  called  upon  to  give  the 
best  of  everything  we  have  to  our  country,  so  that  we 
may  keep  it  safe  from  the  invasion  of  a  remorseless  foe, 
and  hold  its  liberty  intact.  Blood  and  treasure  and 
tears  are  the  price  of  our  freedom;  we  hold  nothing 
back.  But  an  awful  responsibility  rests  upon  all  those 
who  primarily  brought  about  this  most  un-Christian 


THE  WORLD  IN  TEARS  191 

world-contest ;  for  war  and  the  murder  of  the  many  is 
always  the  result  of  the  evil  thoughts  and  passions  of  a 
misguided  few.  If  Peoples  in  the  aggregate  were  gov- 
erned by  strong,  brave,  honest  men  who  loved  equity 
more  than  their  own  advancement,  there  would  be  no 
wars.  But  as  yet  we  are  still  seeking  for  even  One 
strong,  brave,  honest  man!  Our  national  Poet  speaks 
truth  when  he  tells  us, — 

"To  be  honest,  as  this  world  goes,  is  to  be  one  man 
picked  out  of  ten  thousand." 

Meanwhile,  for  the  incalculable  crimes  of  Dishonest 
Governments,  the  Peoples  are  bereaved  of  their  children 
— their  young  manhood — and  mothers,  sisters,  sweet- 
hearts, wives,  and  little  ones  are  flung  remorselessly  into 
withering  fires  of  agony,  and  drowned  in  a  deep  sea  of 
tears.  Who  shall  comfort  these  poor  wounded  hearts? 
— who  shall  fill  these  empty  and  desolate  lives? — who 
shall  raise  them  from  their  swooning  despair  amid  the 
dust  of  graves  and  turn  their  hopes  towards  that  Higher 
Life,  which  though  unseen  and  unrealised,  is  as  certain 
as  what  we  understand  to  be  life  in  this  world?  The 
Christian  Faith  is,  or  should  be,  the  Comforter,  if  ac- 
cepted in  its  true  spiritual  sense.  We  are  too  prone  to 
deaden  and  cheapen  its  splendid  teaching  by  the  dull- 
ness of  our  own  understanding:  we  seek  to  materialise 
into  common  earthiness  that  which  is  purely  heavenly. 
If  we  trusted  more  absolutely  in  the  Divine  Intelligence, 
through  whose  will  and  power  we  have  come  into  being, 
we  should  be  entirely  sure  of  the  positive  truth  pro- 
nounced by  St.  Paul  to  the  Corinthians : — 

"There  are  celestial  bodies  and  bodies  terrestrial,  but 
the  glory  of  the  celestial  is  one,  and  the  glory  of  the 
terrestrial  is  another.  ,  .  So  also  is  the  resurrection 


192  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

of  the  dead;  it  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in 
incorruption ;  it  is  sown  in  dishonour,  it  is  raised  in 
glory;  it  is  sown  in  weakness,  it  is  raised  in  power;  it 
is  sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body. 
There  is  a  natural  body  and  there  is  a  spiritual  body." 

This  is  what  all  the  scientific,  theological,  and  psychi- 
cal instructors  that  ever  lived  in  the  world  have  been 
striving  to  teach  humanity  through  ages  upon  ages. 
But  we  still  continue  to  cling  to  the  natural  "body" — 
not  the  spiritual — to  the  temporal,  and  not  the  eternal ; 
and,  despite  both  religion  and  science,  we  surround  the 
episode  of  death  with  every  sort  of  gloomy  panoply  and 
weeping  protest  against  the  Divine  decree.  Yet  our 
men  who  have  died  at  the  front  have  died  with  extra- 
ordinary cheerfulness;  it  would  seem  that  some  God- 
given  influence  has  surrounded  them  in  the  very  midst 
of  all  the  most  awful  ways  of  dying !  Never  a  murmur 
— never  a  complaint — never  a  regret !  Wonderful,  and 
indeed  miraculous  is  this,  if  we  pause  to  think  of  it! 
It  is  as  if  they  knew,  or  were  being  told,  that  there  are 
many  things  in  life  worse  than  death !  They  face  the 
Last  Terror  with  a  dauntless  smile  and  unflinching  eyes, 
and  it  may  be  that  they  see  light  where  many  of  us, 
blinded  by  personal  sorrow,  are  only  conscious  of  dark- 
ness. Our  Selves  are  the  clouds  which  cover  the  sun. 

And  while  we  continue  to  sit  in  the  shadow  and 
mourn  for  our  absent,  though  never  lost  ones,  it  is  well 
we  should  bear  in  mind  that  no  life  lived  on  earth, 
however  long  extended,  is  complete.  No  lesson  is  ever 
thoroughly  learned,  no  accomplishment  ever  entirely 
mastered.  No  poet,  musician,  or  painter  ever  produced 
a  "perfect"  work.  Why  ?  Because  here  we  are  only  in 
a  preparatory  school — wider  instruction  is  to  come. 


THE  WOELD  IN  TEAKS  193 

The  fullness  of  existence  which  is  ultimately  destined 
to  be  ours  is  an  ever-increasing  perfection  and  power 
which  are  at  present  impossible  for  us  to  conceive.  Just 
as  when  we  came  into  this  world  we  had  no  knowledge 
beforehand  of  its  natural  beauties  and  delights,  so  in 
the  same  way  we  cannot,  in  our  present  condition,  realise 
the  "Shall  Be"  of  the  Hereafter.  Our  bodies,  to  which 
we  attach  such  undue  importance  here,  are  composed 
entirely  of  particles  or  atoms  which  are  constantly 
changing,  and  none  of  us  possess  the  same  body  we  had 
seven  or  fourteen  years  ago.  That  body  has  already 
suffered  death — not  by  violence,  but  by  change.  The 
manner  in  which  the  change  has  been  effected  is  not 
perceived  by  ourselves,  yet  it  has  occurred.  Identity 
of  person  does  not  depend  on  the  identity  of  these  atoms ; 
the  individual  Spirit  is  the  same,  despite  the  shifting 
forces  or  renewal  of  cells  in  its  tenement  of  clay.  Con- 
tinuity, persistency,  and  individuality  are  eternal  laws, 
and  remake  the  vesture  of  the  soul  according  to  its  needs. 
Therefore  our  beloved  dead  are  not  truly  dead,  for,  "as 
we  have  borne  the  image  of  the  earthy,  we  shall  also 
bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly." 

Many  of  us  find  it  difficult — even  impossible — to  ac- 
cept this  reasoning,  and  why  ?  Because  our  minds  are 
always  more  or  less  attuned  to  the  lower  key  of  Self — 
Self,  and  our  own  private  and  particular  sorrow.  As 
long  as  this  is  the  case  the  light  will  never  come  through 
the  gloom;  we  shall  never  "see  God."  We  shall  never 
understand  that  the  lives  sacrificed  with  such  splendid 
heroism,  for  the  freedom  and  purification  of  the  whole 
world,  have  not  ceased  to  live,  and  that  they  have  simply 
"passed  on."  But — is  not  the  parting  from  them  cruel  ? 
Ah,  yes!  but  partings  even  more  cruel  are  common  in 


194  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

the  most  ordinary  daily  life.  When  love  grows  cold— 
when  fair  illusions  perish — when  the  friend  we  trusted 
is  treacherous  and  ungrateful — when  we  have  to  "let 
go"  those  we  have  most  dearly  cherished  to  other  loves 
and  new  surroundings — are  not  these  things  "cruel"  ? 
Crueller  far  than  death ! — for  death  most  usually  clears 
up  many  misunderstandings  and  sets  the  true  soul  right 
with  itself  and  with  that  which  it  has  loved  faithfully. 
For  there  are  many  kinds  of  so-called  "love"  which  is 
not  love  at  all,  but  merely  the  passion  or  caprice  of  the 
moment,  and  which,  if  resolved  into  marriage  between 
the  two  persons  concerned,  ends  in  mutual  indifference 
and  life-long  unhappiness,  and  in  such  cases,  death  is 
a  release  which  separates  finally  and  for  ever.  But 
there  is  another  sort  of  love  which  is  so  deep  and 
unselfish,  and  loyal,  that  it  needs  no  earthly  bond  to 
make  it  eternal,  and  which,  no  matter  how  long  the 
parting,  whether  by  absence  or  death,  is  so  truly  love 
in  the  highest  sense  that  all  the  powers  of  earth  or 
heaven  could  not  hinder  its  complete  union  with  the 
beloved. 

"Shall  we  meet  again?"  sighs  the  bereaved  mother, 
the  lonely  wife,  the  despairing  lover!  Most  assuredly 
you  will! — by  all  the  known  laws  of  attraction  in  this 
glorious  Universe  you  must  meet  again,  if  your  love  be 
love  indeed !  Love  is  not  limited  by  time  or  space ;  we 
know  that  we  can  obtain  light  from  a  star  many  mil- 
lions of  miles  distant,  and  in  the  same  way  we  can 
give  and  receive  love  from  our  parted  dear  ones,  and 
can  exert  this  power  far  beyond  the  confines  of  our 
bodies.  'But  only  when  love  is  really  true  can  this 
happen.  For,  when  the  veil  is  withdrawn  from  heaven 
and  the  released  Spirit  goes  hence,  it  sees  and  knows 


THE  WORLD  IK  TEAES  195 

clearly  which  of  all  its  friends  on  earth  has  loved  it 
most  unselfishly  and  sincerely — whose  sorrow  is  the 
most  tender — whose  faith  is  most  entirely  faithful !  And 
only  shall  such  an  one  meet  it  again  and  rejoice  in 
everlasting  union.  We  find  our  own:  we  discover  our 
beloved  ones  in  that  state  of  clear  vision  and  life- 
fulfilment  to  which  we  are  all  hastening.  And  in  real- 
ising this  we  shall  also  realise  that  in  all  the  truths  of 
science  and  of  reasoning  there  is  No  Death;  and  that 
we  deceive  ourselves  in  the  confusing  shadow  of  our 
personal  griefs  when  they  are  strong  and  bitter  as  they 
are  to-day,  because  of  our  own  "personal"  sense  of  loss. 

"It  is  because  my  beloved  is  gone!"  is  the  cry — 
"Because  I  shall  see  him  no  more !" 

Patience!  He  has  not  "gone"  far!  Just  into  the 
next  room  of  existence,  whither  you  yourself  will  soon 
go;  there  is  but  the  slightest  partition  between  you! 
And  you  will  see  him,  as  it  were,  directly — and  you 
will  know  him,  as  he  will  see  and  know  you! — and  you 
will  wonder  why  you  shed  so  many  tears  when  all  the 
while  he  is  alive,  and  happy  in  the  consciousness  of 
having  done  something  in  his  earthly  life  to  prepare  a 
cleaner,  safer  world  for  the  generations  coming  after 
him. 

But,  if  this  is  so,  some  of  ua  ask,  why  are  we  not 
given  the  proofs  of  it?  Why  does  not  God  make  us 
sure  ?  You  might  as  well  demand  why,  in  the  former 
ages  of  the  world,  the  learning  and  science  of  the 
present  day  were  not  revealed.  "Sound-waves,"  "light- 
rays,"  "radium,"  "electric  force," — all  these  existed 
from  the  very  beginning  of  creation — why  were  we  not 
told?  Simply  because,  by  universal  law,  all  advance- 
ment is,  and  must  be  the  result  of  gradual  evolvement, 


196  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

suited  to  the  slowly  expanding  capacity  of  the  human 
brain  and  its  attendant  mental  spirituality,  and  because 
it  is  decreed  that  we  shall  "work  out  our  own  salvation." 
One  thing  is  certain,  and  that  is,  that — if  we  knew — 
if  we  were  told  the  smallest  part  of  the  wondrous  hidden 
future  awaiting  us,  hardly  any  of  us  would  have  the 
resolution  to  live  this  preparatory  life  through!  We 
should  all  hurry  ourselves  out  of  the  world,  for  we 
would  not  have  the  patience  to  endure  its  schooling. 
We  could  not  wait.  We  would  rush  to  grasp  our  glory ; 
we  would  not  work  to  win  it,  and  so  we  might  lose 
what  we  must  ourselves  deserve  to  gain.  Hence  arose 
the  saying,  "Those  whom  the  gods  love  die  young." 
For  their  schooling  has  been  brief  and  easy — "Even  so, 
saith  the  Spirit,  for  they  rest  from  their  labours." 

A  striking  illustration  of  faith  in  God  and  the  future 
life  has  been  given  to  us  in  these  days  of  darkness  by 
the  heroic  martyrdom  and  death  of  Edith  Cavell,  mur- 
dered by  human  brutes  for  whom  Christianity  has 
become  a  dead  letter.  Her  resignation,  and  her  thanks 
to  God  for  her  "ten  weeks'  quiet  before  the  end" — her 
unaffected  devotion  to  the  Christian  Faith — her  simple 
"Good-bye"  to  her  spiritual  adviser  with  a  happy  smile 
and  her  confident  assurance,  "We  shall  meet  again!" 
make  a  brilliant  and  inspiring  contrast  to  the  doubt  and 
distrust  of  God's  mercy  openly  manifested  by  many  of 
those  who  are  bereaved  and  mourning  in  the  "Valley 
of  the  Shadow."  Prayerfully  one  wonders  when  the 
inhabitants  of  this  small  planet  of  ours  will  come  to 
realise  the  fixed  law  of  its  being  ? — a  Law  which  knows 
no  changing!  Namely,  that  Progression  towards  Good 
— Good,  not  only  for  one's  Self,  but  for  Humanity — 
brings  peace  and  prosperity;  while  Retrogression  to- 


THE  WORLD  IN  TEARS  197 

wards  Evil  results  in  war  and  ruin!  God  Himself 
cannot  undo  this  Law,  which  is  part  of  His  own  Eternal 
Existence — it  is  as  fixed  as  the  poles.  We  dare  not 
blame  His  Almighty  justice  for  the  evil  we  have  de- 
liberately brought  upon  ourselves.  No  one  can  deny 
that  all  the  nations  now  warring  together  have  for  many 
years  past  sought  to  put  God  altogether  out  of  their 
countings,  while  societies  and  individuals,  rejoicing  in 
prolonged  good  fortune  and  taking  as  their  right  the 
blessings  bestowed  upon  them  through  the  mercy  of  a 
beneficent  and  kindly  Providence,  have  forgotten  to 
Whom  they  should  give  thanks,  and  have  become  "puffed 
up,"  as  the  Psalmist  says,  with  pride,  and  enervated  by 
luxury.  We  have  had  innumerable  warnings,  but  we 
would  not  listen.  We  have  made  a  jest  and  a  mockery 
of  all  those  who  sought  to  rouse  us  from  our  lethargy. 
We  have  permitted  such  inroads  of  vice  and  atheism  into 
our  lives  and  morals,  our  art  and  letters,  as  might  make 
pagans  blush.  The  Press  of  the  world  has  not  occupied 
itself  with  the  uplifting  of  the  brotherhood  of  the  peo- 
ples,— on  the  contrary,  it  has  taken  pleasure  in  sowing 
the  seeds  of  discontent  and  rebellion,  and  has  given 
prominence  to  the  unworthy,  praising  the  stage-mime 
more  than  the  statesman — the  materialist  more  than  the 
idealist.  Moreover,  so  far  as  our  foe  is  concerned,  it 
has  left  no  stone  unturned  that  could  rouse  the  Teuton 
wolf  from  its  lair.  Bitter  mockery,  stinging  gibe,  mis- 
placed sneers — these  have  all  been  flung  at  Germany  for 
the  past  ten  years  or  more,  and,  though  they  have  been 
written  chiefly  by  half-educated  young  men  and  boys 
who  in  the  might  of  an  ineffable  conceit  "rush  in  where 
angels  fear  to  tread,"  they  have  had  harmful  effect.  A 


198  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

great  statesman  said  to  me  recently,  "Had  there  been 
no  Press  there  would  have  been  no  war." 

This  may  or  may  not  be  true, — but  whether  true  or 
false  the  eternal  verities  make  no  mistake  in  their 
summing-up  of  evil  things  to  a  fatal  figure.  Thoughts 
give  place  to  words,  and  words  to  actions.  The  War- 
thought  is  the  embryo  of  the  War-deed.  Let  us  not, 
therefore,  in  the  bitterness  of  our  own  personal  sorrows 
blame  God,  or  demand  "Where  was  He  ?"  when  our  dear 
ones  have  been  slain.  The  nations  have  brought  this 
chastisement  of  terror  upon  themselves;  and  that  the 
innocent  must  suffer  with  the  guilty  is  the  worst  part 
of  the  punishment.  The  world  was  becoming  sordid, 
covetous,  and  materialistic;  and  now  the  young  and 
strong  and  brave  of  our  best  manhood  are  called  upon 
to  cleanse  it  of  its  foul  humours  and  to  leave  it  clean. 
Some  thousands  of  lives  must  be  sacrificed  in  this  great 
struggle  for  Freedom  and  for  Right,  but  better  to  die 
honoured  than  live  shamed!  Life,  as  generally  lived, 
is  not  worth  the  pains  we  take  to  preserve  it ;  we  do  our 
loved  ones  an  infinite  wrong  when  we  assume  that  their 
best  chance  of  happiness  is  to  eat  and  sleep  and  play, 
and  make  the  wherewithal  to  eat  and  sleep  and  play. 
A  brave  death  is  more  valuable  than  an  ignoble  life; 
death  itself  being  the  admission  to  a  more  vital  and 
splendid  experience. 

This  being  so,  we  should  not  mourn  as  "those  having 
no  hope."  We,  who  have  loved  and  lost  for  a  time,  will 
go  on  loving  till  we  find  our  lost  again,  as  we  shall  surely 
do.  We  shall  meet  and  know  each  other  on  that  higher 
plane  where  life  is  life  indeed  and  love  is  love  indeed ; 
and  we  shall  make  amends  for  all  our  weeping  and 
complaint.  We  shall  see  how  slight  and  brief,  after  all, 


THE  WORLD  IN  TEARS  199 

were  the  troubles  of  this  present,  compared  with  the 
perfect  joy  of  the  attained  future.  And  we  shall  read 
the  Book  of  the  Wisdom  of  God  without  mistaking  one 
word  or  letter  of  its  meaning,  and  we  shall  learn  that 
Love  alone  is  the  conqueror  of  all  kingdoms.  So  lift 
up  your  weeping  eyes,  ye  million  mourners ! — lift  them 
to  the  Light  and  Life  Eternal,  which  shall  not  fail  you 
even  in  this  dark  Battle-Dream  of  Death! 


GOD  AND  THE  WAR 

(Written  for  "Some  1918  Reflections."    A  collection  arranged  "by 
Guy  Glendower  Croft) 

AMONG  the  many  "reflections"  flashed  upon  the  mirror 
of  the  time  there  is  one  which  to  my  mind  is  not  so 
much  a  "reflection"  as  a  blur — a  blot  which  is  almost  a 
dark  and  deepening  shadow.  I,  who  venture  to  write  of 
it,  own  myself  to  be  but  a  mere  romancist,  whose  ostensi- 
ble business  is  to  weave  night  and  day,  like  the  "Lady 
of  Shalott," — "A  magic  web  with  colours  gay,"  a  web 
of  thought-tapestry  into  scenes  and  episodes  which  may 
or  may  not  please  my  readers  and  distract  them  from 
the  continuous  harassment  and  grief  brought  upon  them 
by  the  war.  It  might  even  be  said  of  me  that — 

"So  she  weaveth  steadily 
And  little  other  care  hath  she," 


"Moving  through  a  mirror  clear 
That  hangs  before  her  all  the  year 
Shadows  of  the  world  appear," 

and  the  Shadow  which  darkens  my  outlook  most  is  what 
I  may  call  the  Shadow  of  Negation,  or  what  the  Roman 
Church  classifies  among  the  sins  against  the  Holy  Ghost, 
namely,  "Presumption  of  God's  mercy." 

There  are  any  number  of  apparently  worthy,  respect- 
200 


GOD  AND  THE  WAR  201 

able  and  well-intentioned  persons  who  regard  the  Great 
War  as  a  singular  piece  of  Divine  injustice  and  un- 
deserved annoyance  to  themselves — and  their  attitude 
towards  it  is  so  amazing  as  to  be  almost  incredible. 

They  are  incapable  of  taking  a  broad  outlook;  and, 
to  them,  the  whole  terrible  business  is  a  monstrously 
impertinent  interference  with  the  peaceful  working  of 
the  Parish  Pump — no  more. 

This  curious  mental  standpoint  was  forced  upon  my 
notice  recently  by  the  remarks  of  a  seemingly  intelligent 
man  of  commerce,  who,  having  made  a  pleasant  little 
"pile"  which  enables  him  to  live  comfortably  for  the 
rest  of  his  days,  and  being  much  too  old  for  any  form 
of  "active"  or  "national"  service,  has,  literally,  nothing 
to  complain  of,  and  nothing  to  do  but  offer  his  valueless 
opinions  on  the  terrific  happenings  of  the  hour.  And  he 
it  was,  who,  with  an  air  of  judicially  settling  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Universe,  once  and  for  all,  said  firmly, — 

"I've  given  up  God !  I  don't  believe  in  a  God !  If 
there  was  one  He  would  not  have  permitted  this  war !" 

This  crushing  observation  from  one  of  the  least  of 
human  microbes  would  not  merit  notice  but  for  the 
fact  that  many  more  intelligent  and  thoughtful  microbes 
than  he  have  committed  themselves  to  the  same  unwise 
and,  I  may  venture  to  say,  blasphemous  utterance.  For, 
if  any  doubter  has  need  of  assurance  as  to  the  existence 
of  God,  this  great  and  terrible  war  is  the  most  profound, 
significant,  and  emphatic  declaration  of  Almighty  Pow- 
er and  Justice  that  the  world  has  ever  known. 

It  is  the  strong,  resolved  assertion  of  a  vast  spiritual 
and  intellectual  Force,  which,  for  many  years,  all  the 
nations  now  warring  together  have  elected  to  ignore, 
or  else  to  acknowledge  in  such  half-hearted  fashion 


202  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

that  sheer  ignoring  might  betoken  greater  reverence. 
It  is  the  Force,  which  by  natural  and  immutable  law 
acts  upon  unclean  and  poisonous  things  and  exterminates 
them  without  mercy  or  appeal.  We  may  call  it  Fate 
or  God  as  it  suits  us — but  whatever  be  the  accepted 
name  of  this  eternally  working  system  of  Mathematics, 
it  admits  of  no  false  quantities  and  has  to  be  reckoned 
with  as  the  only  positive  FACT  in  the  universe.  All 
else  may  change,  "Heaven  and  earth  may  pass  away  but 
My  Word  shall  not  pass  away."  That  is  to  say — "My 
Word"  is  the  eternal  Law;  and  however  craftily  and 
cleverly  we  may  arrange  our  little  "civilisations"  and 
schemes  of  "giving"  in  order  to  "get,"  we  cannot  carry 
forward  a  single  act  of  injustice  or  falsity  without  pun- 
ishment following  the  offence.  If  not  soon,  then  late. 
Our  judgments,  our  opinions  on  the  scroll  of  everlasting 
equity,  are  as  the  scrawls  of  babes  who  are  incapable  of 
mastering  the  fact  that  two  and  two  make  four.  We  are 
always  trying  to  make  them  five,  the  one  over  being  a 
clumsy  attempt  to  gain  some  advantage  to  ourselves. 

It  is  our  "camouflage" — that  vulgar  expression  of 
French  police  "argot"  which  truly  is  not  in  the  French 
language  at  all,  but  which,  nevertheless,  has  lately  be- 
come the  stupid  parrot-cry  of  the  irremediably  illiterate 
British  press,  whose  paragraphists  seize  with  rabid  joy 
on  any  foreign  word  they  do  not  entirely  understand  and 
run  it  to  death. 

Yet,  try  as  we  may,  two  and  two  will  not  make  five. 
Hence  our  small  political  quarrels  and  big  greedy  wars. 

The  pros  and  cons  of  the  present  terrific  clash  of 
nations  can  be  totalled  up  as  easily  as  a  sum  on  a  slate 
-• — each  effect  has  had  its  causes.  Belgium  is  devastated, 
and  her  people  have  been  and  are  robbed,  tortured,  and 


GOD  AND  THE  WAR  203 

murdered.  True !  But  what  of  Belgium's  own  tacitly 
approved  cruelties  on  the  Congo?  The  present  is  the 
result  of  the  past.  Consider  Russia!  She  is  like  a 
great  creature  fallen  in  the  dust — the  seeming  corpse  of 
herself,  helpless  to  move,  while  birds  of  prey  gather 
round  her  seeking  to  tear  her  to  bits  and  divide  the 
spoil.  iBut  does  not  Russia  deserve  her  fate  ? — has  she 
not  invited  it?  May  we  not  think  of  her  cruelties, 
tyrannies,  and  enslavements  practised  on  her  own  people 
for  hundreds  of  years?  The  gods  have  been  patient 
with  her  arrogance,  but  there  is  a  limit  even  to  divine 
patience.  Italy  and  France — prosperous,  and  growing 
more  and  more  fond  ojf  money-getting,  eager  to  destroy 
all  their  noble,  ancient  ideals — these  have,  as  it  were, 
administered  a  kick  to  the  very  thought  of  Deity. 

Twenty  years  ago  in  France  the  CatecJiisme  du  Libre 
Pensuer  was  taught  in  schools,  and  the  name  of  God 
excluded  from  the  general  curriculum.  Italy  has  long 
been  openly  pagan,  notwithstanding  the  "Holy  Pris- 
oner" of  the  Vatican.  And  Germany,  our  brutal  foe, 
has  flung  every  ideal  to  the  winds  save  Self  and  Greed, 
so  that  not  even  the  "untutored  savage"  principles  of 
honour  have  any  hold  on  her. 

And  what  may  we,  what  dare  we  say  of  Great  Brit- 
ain ?  Is  it  a  true  religion  that  to  suit  convention  prints 
a  prayer  to  God  in  a  rag  newspaper,  when  for  years  that 
same  newspaper  has  ignored  every  sign,  symbol,  or  sug- 
gestion of  religious  faith  ?  Rightly  or  wrongly,  British 
folk  are  credited  with  more  "camouflage"  than  all  the 
French  police  put  together;  "camouflage"  in  this  in- 
stance standing  for  hypocrisy,  and  if  they  do  believe  in 
a  God  it  is  difficult  to  realise  their  sincerity. 

Meanwhile  the  old  thunder  rolls  from  Heaven — "God 


204  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

is  not  mocked !"  and,  so  far  from  seeing  His  "injustice" 
in  this  terrible  war  which  is  ruining  so  much  that  can 
never  be  replaced,  let  us  realise  that  we,  the  offending 
Nations,  have  brought  it  upon  Ourselves. 

Ourselves  have  been  ungrateful  for  His  mercies  and 
blessings;  Ourselves  have  made  Self  our  god,  and 
Wealth  our  chief  aim — and  so  now  by  the  Divine  Law 
shall  Our  Selves  be  slain  and  our  wealth  taken  from  us. 
Thus  the  Shadow  darkens  the  mirror  of  my  "reflections" 
— for  I  feel  with  Admiral  Beatty  that  (as  he  expressed 
it)  "until  religious  revival  takes  place  at  home  just  so 
long  will  the  war  continue.  When  England  can  look 
out  on  the  future  with  humbler  eyes  and  a  prayer  on 
her  lips,  then  we  can  begin  to  count  the  days  towards  the 
end!" 

Then — and  only  then!  Then  the  Shadow  will  lift 
and  the  mirror  will  reflect  the  glorious  figure  of 
Victory.  .  .  . 

"Like  to  some  branch  of  stars  we  see 
Hung  in  the  golden  Galaxy !" 

But  not  till  then!  And  meanwhile  the  Great  War 
must  be  seen  in  its  true  light — as  a  Punishment  of 
Nations  for  their  unrepented  wrongs  to  one  another! 


TRIUMPH  OF  WOMANHOOD 

(Written  for  the  Scottish  Women's  Hospital) 

As  a  light  in  deep  darkness  she  has  arisen — woman, 
pure  womanly,  with  all  the  God-given  attributes  of  her 
highest  nature  at  last  acknowledged  by  her  self-styled 
"lord  and  master,"  Man !  She  has  shaken  off  the  tram- 
mels which  for  many  centuries  he  had  fastened  about 
her — as  heroic  maid  and  mother  she  has  roused  the  bet- 
ter spirit  in  him.  Out  of  the  gloom  and  blood  and 
slaughter  of  this  world  war — the  most  wicked  war  that 
ever  devastated  the  earth — she  has  radiated  upon  him 
like  an  angel,  clothed  in  a  glory  of  love  and  pity;  and, 
moving  by  his  side  through  the  poisonous  smoke  of 
battle  and  the  thunder  of  the  guns,  she  has  cheered  him 
on  his  way.  When  wounded  and  fallen  she  has  been 
swift  to  rescue  him,  and  first  to  soothe.  Who  will,  who 
can,  ever  justly  estimate  the  saving  work  of  women  in 
this  terrific  holocaust  of  nations ! — this  mad  hurtling  of 
man  against  brother — man  without  thought  for  the 
consequences  of  such  wholesale  murder!  To  Woman, 
in  her  mother-love  and  mercy,  friend  and  foe  are  alike 
indifferent ;  all  that  her  pitying  eyes  see  are  the  gaping 
wounds,  the  flowing  blood,  the  torn  and  disfigured  limbs 
— her  province  is  to  save,  heal,  and  comfort  if  she  can. 
She  knows  that  with  God  there  are  no  nations,  but  that 
all  men  are  human  beings,  subject  to  the  same  sufferings, 
the  eame  deaths;  she  knows  by  the  teaching  of  Christ 

205 


206  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

that  not  a  sparrow  shall  fall  to  the  ground  without  Our 
Father,  and  that  men  are  of  "more  value  than  many 
sparrows."  So,  placing  herself  in  tenderest  unison 
with  that  "quality  of  mercy"  which 

"Is  not  strained, 

But  droppeth,  like  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven, 
Upon  the  place  beneath," 

she  gives  her  care  and  service  to  all.  She  has  no  fears 
for  herself ;  she  would  as  soon  die  as  live,  provided  only 
she  is  doing  her  duty.  Perhaps,  away  down  in  the  very 
core  of  her  heart,  her  natural  maternal  instinct  teaches 
her  that  these  struggling,  contesting  masses  of  men  are 
more  or  less  enraged  children,  tormented  and  driven  by 
bigger  boys  than  themselves  to  fall  upon  each  other  and 
slay  without  thought — she  may  sometimes  think  wist- 
fully that  had  they  sought  her  counsel  they  might  have 
found  some  better  way  out  of  their  quarrel  than  the 
killing  of  their  brothers — but,  until  lately,  her  role 
through  all  the  centuries  has  been  the  mistaken  one  of 
submission  to  man's  caprice  or  ordainment,  and  any 
attempt  at  individuality  on  her  part  has  been  decried 
as  a  perversion  of  sex.  Now  the  question  of  sex,  re- 
duced to  first  principles,  appears  to  be  that  woman 
should  find  her  sole  content  as  the  "vessel"  of  man's 
pleasure — the  breeder  and  nurse  of  his  offspring  and 
no  more.  This  great  war  has  somewhat  altered  the  lines 
of  the  masculine  perspective,  for  men  have  been  forced 
to  admit  that  women  can  do  all  their  work  as  well  as 
themselves,  and  sometimes  better.  They  can  even  build 
ships  and  aeroplanes,  and  all  this  without  losing  the 
spirit  of  womanliness.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the 


TEIUMPH  OF  WOMANHOOD  207 

woman  who  might  lately  have  been  seen  hammering 
at  the  keel  of  a  "Dreadnought"  can  prove  herself  soft- 
handed  in  tending  the  wounded,  and  most  reverently 
loving  in  her  last  cares  for  the  dying  and  the  dead. 
She  has  mastered  her  nerves — those  "Early  Victorian" 
nerves  which  shuddered  fastidiously  at  the  sight  of 
blood,  and  sent  their  hysterical  owners  into  a  swoon 
when  dangers  or  difficulties  arose,  in  order  to  create 
fresh  confusion;  she  knows  the  great  secret  of  self- 
control,  and  the  wonderful  vigour  and  courage  which 
are  born  of  that  fine  quality.  There  are  very  few 
women  nowadays  who  scream  at  the  sight  of  a  mouse! 
But  this  was  considered  quite  "the  proper  thing"  to  do 
in  Jane  Austen  days,  just  as  in  some  of  the  queer  old 
novels  written  before  the  grand  romances  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  the  heroines  invariably  "fainted  away"  when  the 
lover  of  the  piece  declared  his  passion.  Women  know 
that  "lover  of  the  piece"  fairly  well  by  this  time,  and 
all  his  limitations — sufficiently,  at  any  rate,  to  be  con- 
vinced that  there  is  nothing  in  him  worth  even  a  pre- 
tended "swoon,"  though  there  may  be  much  that  is 
worth  cherishing,  guiding,  and  inspiring  to  the  best 
purposes.  ~Not  every  man  is  like  a  certain  one  I  wot 
of,  who,  after  being  nursed  for  three  months  in  a 
friend's  house,  said  to  that  friend  and  hostess  on  the 
day  he  left  in  restored  health, — "If  you  want  a  man  to 
like  you,  never  do  anything  for  him!"  This  was  not 
said  in  jest,  but  in  grim  and  churlish  earnest.  It  was  a 
curious  recompense  for  three  months'  watchful  anxiety 
and  care,  but  I  dare  say  she  realised  then,  if  never 
before,  that  "one  cannot  make  a  silk  purse  out  of  a 
sow's  ear."  Fortunately  there  are  few  such  "sow's 
ears"  about;  most  men,  especially  our  heroic  fighters, 


208  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

are  touchingly  grateful  for  women's  kindness  and  de- 
voted nursing,  while  fairly  astonished  at  their  endur- 
ance, cheerfulness,  patience,  and  devotion.  Truly,  the 
supposed  "incapacities"  of  woman  never  existed  except 
in  the  hopelessly  unintelligent  of  her  sex  which  have 
their  counterpart  in  man;  she  has  supported  her  share 
of  the  burden  of  life  under  a  stupid  system  of  repression 
and  tyranny  which  has  frequently  resulted  in  discour- 
agement, weariness,  and  indifference.  But  give  her 
the  chance  to  be  her  true,  free  self,  and  she  will  be  the 
most  powerful  factor  in  the  world  for  the  betterment 
of  humanity.  We  shall  not  deny  that  there  are  worth- 
less women — fool-women,  toy-women, — fit  for  nothing 
but  posturing  in  various  attitudes  and  sets  of  clothing; 
but  these  will  find  their  level  and  grow  fewer  as  time 
goes  on.  The  grander,  purer  natures  will,  like  waves  of 
a  clean,  bright  sea,  roll  over  the  mud-banks  and  event- 
ually wash  worthless  things  away.  For  now,  after  cen- 
turies of  oppression  and  servitude,  in  which  her  incal- 
culable love  has  been  more  than  half  wasted,  and  her 
splendid  qualities  misprized,  now  at  last  Woman  has 
her  chance !  And  those  who  see  her  day  dawning  must 
and  will  pray  earnestly  that  she  will  use  her  powers 
always  for  the  highest  and  the  best,  to  the  end  that  Man 
may  find  in  her  not  a  "drag  on  the  wheel,"  but  a  great 
lifting  strength  to  bear  him  upward  and  onward  to  that 
completeness  of  noble  living  which  from  the  beginning 
God  has  ordained. 


IN  PEAISE  OF  ENEMIES 

(Published  in  the   "Sunday  Times") 

WE  are  not  always  thankful  for  our  blessings;  often, 
indeed,  we  do  not  recognise  them  as  such.  They  come 
to  us  disguised  in  the  fashion  of  curses,  or  so  we  are 
apt  to  consider  them  till  we  know  better.  Many  of  us 
are  absurdly  proud  of  the  number  of  our  friends;  with 
equal  absurdity  we  deplore  our  evil  destiny  if  we  have 
but  one  enemy.  Yet  if  all  the  truth  were  known,  we 
should  find  that  we  have  more  reason  to  thank  God 
for  our  foes  than  for  our  friends! 

In  the  actual  storm  and  stress  of  life's  battle  our 
"friends,"  so-called,  are  of  little  use  to  us;  they  are 
more  prone  to  be  a  drag  on  the  wheel.  They  are, 
generally  speaking,  kind,  conventional  folk,  who,  when  a 
soul  is  girding  on  its  armour  for  action,  will  give 
"advice,"  such  as  "Oh,  I  wouldn't  run  any  risks,  if  I 
were  you !"  or  "Do  be  careful  not  to  offend  any  one !" 
or  "You'll  get  yourself  disliked!"  as  if  risk,  offence, 
dislike,  and  trouble  were  not  full  of  stimulus,  inspiring 
the  fighting  spirit  which  alone  can  beat  down  difficulties 
and  carry  us  on  from  triumph  to  triumph  till  the  great 
victory  over  ourselves  be  assured!  But  enemies! 
Praise  God  for  them !  They  are  the  useful  and  neces- 
sary Force  which  hurls  itself  against  all  progress,  all 
power  and  originality  of  thought  or  action — the  mur- 
derous obstacle  laid  across  the  line  in  an  attempt  to 

209 


210  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

wreck  the  express  train — the  great  contrary  wind  that 
seeks  to  drive  the  sailing  hoat  against  the  rocks — the 
"thing  in  the  way"  that  must  be  thrust  aside  and 
trampled  underfoot.  What  worker  or  warrior  would 
willingly  forego  "each  rebuff  that  makes  earth's 
smoothness  rough"  ?  The  man  or  woman  without  an 
enemy  must  he  of  all  persons  the  most  insignificant ;  one 
who  does  nothing  and  is  nothing;  of  whom  no  one  ia 
envious,  and  who  can  never  have  said  a  brave,  original 
thing,  or  a  word  of  upright,  downright  truth  in  any 
circumstances. 

You  never  know  how  high  you  are  climbing  till  you 
feel  some  one  behind  you  trying  to  pull  you  down. 
Perhaps  the  greatest  compliment  that  can  be  paid  by 
ignorance  and  malice  to  a  man  or  woman  of  genius  and 
virtue,  is  the  verdict  passed  on  the  Divine  Master  in 
Galilee,  that  he  (or  she)  "hath  a  devil" ! 

At  the  present  time  more  than  at  any  other  period 
of  history  we  of  the  iBritish  Empire  should  bless  God 
for  our  enemies !  What  they  have  done  and  what  they 
are  doing  for  us,  albeit  unconsciously  and  unwillingly, 
can  hardly  be  accurately  estimated — not  while  they  are 
still  attacking  us.  We  must  wait  some  years  before  we 
can  measure  up  the  advantages  they  are  bestowing 
upon  us — advantages  which  we  might  not  in  a  century 
have  obtained  for  ourselves. 

We  were  too  satisfied  with  our  apparent  "friends"; 
we  were,  and  still  are,  much  too  sure  of  them!  We 
were  comfortable,  contented,  lazy.  We  had  everything 
we  wanted  and  more.  We  spent  money  freely,  and 
being  eminently  good-natured  and  trustful,  we  allowed 
every  one  to  come  in  at  our  open  doors  and  partake  of 
our  hospitality.  Out  of  our  full  bags  of  gold  we  poured 


PRAISE  OF  ENEMIES  211 

rivers  of  charity  in  every  direction;  we  Helped  every- 
body that  asked  for  help;  and  we  allowed  all  sorts  of 
folk  to  exploit  us  and  make  money  out  of  us.  We  could 
not  believe  that  the  "friends"  we  entertained  and  whose 
hands  we  had  filled  with  good  gifts  could  ever  turn 
upon  us.  We  seemed  to  have  no  foes ;  and  we  trusted 
these  "friends"  of  ours  implicitly.  Too  casual  and  easy- 
going to  heed  the  teachings  of  philosophy  we  forgot  that 
it  takes  a  far  nobler  nature  to  receive  benefits  than  to 
bestow  them. 

Mean  minds  resent  generosity  while  taking  advantage 
of  it,  and  nothing  goads  and  envenoms  some  disposi- 
tions so  much  as  the  near  consciousness  of  a  superior 
force  and  ungrudging  hand.  This  was,  and  is,  the 
trouble  with  the  Kaiser  and  his  particular  following — 
we  will  not  say  Germany,  for  German  without  the 
Hohenzollern  autocracy  would  be  a  very  different  and 
far  greater  Germany  than  it  has  been  since  the  days  of 
Goethe  and  Schiller. 

The  Emperor  William,  as  an  eminently  theatrical 
monarch,  loving  grease-paint  and  the  limelight,  and 
obsessed  by  various  crazes,  such  as  hate  for  his  English 
mother  and  intensified  hate  for  his  mother's  country, 
filled  even  with  a  morbid  revulsion  against  the  English 
blood  in  his  own  veins,  cannot  abide  the  thought  of 
the  greatness  and  far-reaching  protective  influence  of 
the  British  Imperial  Power.  To  bend,  break,  and  de- 
stroy THAT  has  been  his  dream  from  boyhood — a  dream 
never  to  be  fulfilled !  His  visits  to  our  shores  were  the 
visits  of  a  seeming  "friend,"  and  we  treated  him  as  an 
honest  people  treat  an  honest  man.  He  took  our 
kindness  for  stupidity,  our  trust  for  ignorance,  our  faith 
for  credulity,  and  his  complete  misconception  of  the 


212.  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

British  character  Has  led  him  into  a  trap  which  He  set 
for  us,  but  by  which  he  himself  is  snared — the  usual 
Nature-law  enacted  surely  and  remorselessly  on  every 
treacherous  soul. 

What  would  be  said  or  thought  of  a  man  invited  to 
the  house  of  a  kindly  hostess  and  permitted  to  enjoy 
the  full  freedom  of  the  place,  its  hospitality,  its  food, 
its  comfort  and  shelter,  who,  on  having  used  it  as  a 
convenience  and  gained  personal  pleasure  and  advantage 
therein,  even  to  the  making  of  money,  suddenly  turned 
roughly  upon  his  entertainer,  abused  her  manners,  her 
voice,  her  speech,  her  friends,  her  servants  and  mode  of 
living,  and  having  got  all  he  wanted  out  of  her  personally 
insulted  her?  Probably  not  one  man  in  ten  thousand 
would  conduct  himself  so  vilely,  but  if  that  one  man 
did  so  forgo  all  manliness,  there  would  be  not  a  few 
of  his  own  sex  ready  and  more  than  willing  to  put  him 
in  his  place  at  the  point  of  the  boot. 

Yet  such  has  been  the  "honorable  code  of  chivalry" 
of  the  Emperor  William — the  "Kultur"  which  boasts 
of  treachery  to  his  own  kindred,  of  injury  to  his  mother's 
native  land,  of  wantonly  murderous  attacks  on  innocent 
civilians  who  are  not  in  any  way  concerned  with  the 
diseased  obsessions  of  his  brain — a  "Kultur"  which  is 
more  than  anything  else  the  "cult  of  stupidity" — the 
stupidity  of  a  blinded  bull  charging  into  everything 
with  unreasoning  fury.  But  for  us  the  bull-onslaught  is 
a  saving  grace,  for  through  the  blindness  of  the  beast  we 
see! 

Yes,  we  see,  and  see  clearly!  We  have  discovered 
our  foe  behind  the  disguise  of  our  "friend,"  and  instead 
of  opening  our  doors  to  him  we  shut  them.  Instead  of 
holding  out  the  hand  of  welcome  and  confidence  we  put 


IN  PRAISE  OF  ENEMIES  213 

up  the  curtain  of  our  artillery  fire! — and  the  valour 
of  Britain,  wrongfully  supposed  to  be  asleep  or  dead,  is 
up  in  all  its  pristine  might  and  mettle,  full-armed  with 
a  strength  and  magnificent  courage  unmatched  in  all 
our  history. 

This  is  what  our  enemies  have  done  for  us :  they  have 
brought  us  to  realise  the  truth  Ourselves !  Had  it  not 
been  for  their  "stab-i'-the-back"  we  might  still  have 
played  away  our  time,  and  with  it  our  commerce.  Our 
enemies  have  roused  our  grip  and  grit ;  they  have  taught 
us  that  we  can  turn  out  as  many  fighting  men  and 
munitions  in  twelve  months  as  they  could  do  in  forty 
years.  Even  we,  accustomed  for  a  century  to  a  peace 
unbroken  save  by  small  foreign  skirmishes,  are  now 
with  our  Allies  winning  the  greatest  war  of  the  world. 

Assaulted  in  new  and  brutal  ways  from  the  air,  from 
the  underseas,  as  well  as  on  land,  Imperial  Britain 
holds  her  own,  for  which  she  may  thank,  not  her  friends, 
but  her  foes.  True  it  is  that,  as  Christ  taught,  "A 
man's  foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own  household,"  and  this 
saying  is  markedly  fulfilled  in  the  Kaiser's  hatred  of 
his  mother's  country  and  people.  But  whether  of  one's 
own  household  or  not,  nothing  is  so  salutary,  so  rousing, 
so  inspiring  and  vivifying  to  the  mind  as  the  conscious- 
ness of  enemies,  the  knowledge  that  some  one  envies  you, 
grudges  you  success,  and  would  be  glad  to  hear  of  your 
failure  in  some  great  effort.  It  rouses  all  your  latent 
forces  and  makes  you  stronger,  bolder,  more  irresistible 
than  ever  you  were  before. 

A  fair  woman  never  looks  fairer  than  when  she  is 
being  "picked  to  pieces"  by  a  yellow-skinned  scandal- 
monger, and  to  any  individual  possessing  gifts  above  the 
ordinary  the  spite  and  malice  of  the  envious  and  jealous 


214!  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

are  as  light  on  the  path  and  music  in  the  air,  in- 
vigorating the  heart,  bracing  the  energies,  and  emphasis- 
ing the  fact  that  any  one  so  envied  is  worth  envying, 
any  one  so  hated  is  worth  hating,  because  so  far  above 
the  reach  of  either  envy  or  hatred ! 

So  let  us  praise  God  for  our  enemies!  They  are 
adding  to  our  triumphs  and  renewing  our  glories.  When 
we  chant  the  "Te  Deum"  let  us  mentally  include  an 
extra  strophe  which  shall  say,  "We  bless  Thee,  O  Lord, 
for  our  foes,  that  Thou  dost  suffer  them  to  teach  us  the 
sure  way  to  victory !  We  thank  Thee  for  their  broken 
faith,  their  cruelties,  and  their  falsehoods,  as  from  these 
we  renew  our  own  resolve  to  keep  our  promised  word 
to  all  nations,  and  even  in  the  bitterness  of  battle  to 
be  honest  and  humane ! 

"From  their  unjust  cause  we  draw  fresh  justice: 
from  their  defeats  we  derive  our  conquest.  Without 
them  we  might  have  forgotten  what  we  were  and  what 
we  are  !  We  thank  and  praise  Thee,  O  God,  that  through 
these  our  enemies  we  have  found  our  best  friends — 
OURSELVES  1" 


RECKUITING  SPEECH 

(Delivered  in  the  De  Montfort  Hall,  Leicester) 

IN  the  De  Montfort  Hall,  Leicester,  at  the  conclusion 
of  Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle's  Lecture  on  the  Great 
War,  Miss  Marie  Corelli,  who  presided  as  Chairman, 
made  an  appeal  for  recruits  in  the  following  terms: — 

"There  is  very  little  for  me  or  for  any  one  to  say, 
after  what  we  have  heard  to-night.  The  moving  and 
magnificent  panorama  which  Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle 
has  brought  before  our  eyes  by  the  force  of  his  eloquence 
should  inspire  us  more  to  deeds  than  words.  He  has 
told  us  what  our  men  have  already  done;  he  has 
hinted  at  what  they  have  yet  to  do.  This  fearful 
war  is  not  a  game  at  football ;  we  cannot  play  at  it,  or 
put  it  aside  as  something  to  be  thought  of  casually  after 
we  have  consulted  our  own  humour  and  convenience. 
It  is  a  time  of  self-sacrifice;  we  owe  the  best  of  all 
we  have  to  our  country.  We  must  give,  not  only  our- 
selves, but  those  we  love  to  the  country's  service.  In 
these  fortunate  islands,  mercifully  protected  by  the  sea, 
we  have  not  as  yet  experienced  the  horrors  of  invasion ; 
but  invasion  may  come,  and  will  come  if  we  are  not 
prepared,  alert,  and  watchful !  We  must  grudge  nothing 
to  prevent  such  disaster.  We  must  put  aside  our  own 
concerns  entirely,  and  think  of  what  this  Great  War 
means.  It  means  wider  freedom  for  the  whole  world ! 

215 


210  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

It  means  an  end  to  the  tyranny  and  savagery  of  Prus- 
sian militarism ;  it  means  greater  progress  and  broader 
civilisation.  And  being  such  a  war,  every  man  should 
be  proud  and  eager  to  bear  his  part  in  it.  Any  man, 
physically  "fit"  who  hesitates  or  hangs  back  at  such 
a  crucial  moment  in  his  country's  hour  of  trial  is  a 
coward !  And  any  woman  who  holds  him  back  is  also 
a  coward,  and  a  selfish  one!  We  love  our  men — yes! 
— but  love  is  not  true  love  if  it  hinders  a  man  from 
doing  his  duty.  There  is  danger — there  is  chance  of 
death  on  the  field  of  battle;  but  death  comes  to  all 
of  us  sooner  or  later;  and  we  may  question  whether 
it  is  not  better  to  pass  away  gloriously  with  honour, 
than  to  creep  languidly  out  of  existence  in  bed,  sur- 
rounded by  physic  bottles.  A  soldier  must  face  all 
possibilities,  and  a  brave  man  must  be  willing  to  risk 
the  worst  for  the  chance  of  winning  the  best.  As 
Shakespeare  tells  us, — 

"  'Cowards  die  many  times  before  their  deaths ; 
The  valiant  only  taste  of  death  but  once/ 

"There  is  urgent  necessity  for  every  able  man  (who  is 
not  employed  in  turning  out  munitions  of  war)  to  join 
the  colours — and  if  he  is  a  man  at  all,  he  should  have 
no  hesitation.  After  such  a  moving  history  as  that 
told  us  by  Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle,  is  there  a  'fit' 
man  here  who  is  not  willing  and  eager  to  join  his 
brothers-in-arms,  and  do  his  best  to  make  their  task 
easier?  Is  there  a  man  whose  work  lies,  not  abroad, 
but  at  home  in  the  making  of  shells  and  ammunition, 
that  would  grudge  a  single  hour  of  labour  for  his 


KECRUITING  SPEECH  217 

country  in  suet  urgent  need  ?  If  there  is,  he  must  be 
of  bad  blood  and  not  a  true-born  Briton ! 

"If  I  had  the  right,  the  eloquence  or  the  power  to 
plead  with  you,  I  would  ask  every  man  here  present 
who  can  join  the  colours,  but  who  has  not  done  so,  to 
do  it  now!  And  I  would  also  ask  every  man  whose 
skill  and  strength  are  needed  for  the  manufacture  of 
war  material,  to  work  steadily,  cheerfully,  and  un- 
grudgingly, in  the  full  consciousness  that  by  urging 
on  the  necessary  output  he  is  helping  to  save  hundreds 
of  the  lives  of  his  countrymen.  He,  the  worker,  is  as 
necessary  to  the  Empire  as  the  soldier;  he  also  is 
fighting  the  King's  enemies. 

"And,  if  I  had  any  force  to  persuade,  I  would  pray 
every  woman  in  this  audience  to  prove  her  love  for  the 
men  belonging  to  her  by  inspiring  them  to  do  their 
duty  to  'King  and  country';  either  by  sending  them 
away  to  join  the  Army,  with  all  good  blessing  and  trust 
in  God  for  their  safety — or  by  ^heartening'  them  up 
to  their  work  in  war  munitions,  and  putting  no  diffi- 
culties in  their  path  of  honour.  For  every  man  that 
hangs  back  from  military  service,  or  'shirks'  his  work 
refuses  to  help  his  brothers;  and  every  woman  that 
keeps  a  man  away  from  the  great  fight,  or  encourages 
him  to  grudge  and  shorten  his  hours  of  labour  is  wrong- 
ing other  women's  husband  and  sons.  In  this  great 
test  of  national  character  none  of  us  must  fail.  In  the 
war,  as  in  work,  we  must  all  pull  together,  shoulder  to 
shoulder  to  win  the  victory  which  must  and  shall  be 
ours — 

"  'If  England  to  herself  do  rest  but  true  I*  " 


218  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

The  speaker  concluded  by  asking  her  hearers  to  join 
in  a  hearty  vote  of  thanks  to  Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle 
for  his  "fine,  instructive,  and  impressive  lecture."  This 
proposal  was  seconded  by  the  Mayor  of  Leicester 
(Alderman  J.  North)  and  Sir  Samuel  Faire,  and  carried 
with  acclamation,  the  vast  audience  being  evidently 
moved  to  exceptional  enthusiasm. 


SPLENDID  CANADA 

A    TEIBUTE 

To  you,  brave  Canadians,  to  you  who  have  fought  so 
magnificently  for  the  old  Mother-Country,  and  of  whose 
valour  and  dash  and  spirit  never  too  much  can  be  said 
or  sung,  I  would  address  Tennyson's  noble  lines: — 

"A  People's  voice,  we  are  a  people  yet 
Though  all  men  else  their  nobler  dreams  forget, 
Confused  by  brainless  mobs  and  lawless  powers; 
Thank  Him  who  isled  us  here  and  roughly  set 
His  Briton  in  blown  seas  and  storming  showers, 
We  have  a  voice  with  which  to  pay  the  debt 
Of  boundless  love  and  reverence  and  regret, 
To  those  great  men  who  fought  and  kept  it  ours 
And  keep  it  ours,  O  God,  from  brute  control: 
O  Statesmen,  guard  us,  guard  the  eye,  the  soul 
Of  Europe,  keep  our  noble  England  whole, 
And  save  the  one  true  seed  of  Freedom  sown 
Betwixt  a  people  and  their  ancient  throne." 

The  one  true  seed  of  Freedom!  This  is  deeply 
implanted  in  our  Empire,  and  you  Canadian  boys  are 
fostering  it  and  helping  it  to  grow.  Your  help  is  needed 
in  peace  as  much  as  in  war;  we  want  your  strength, 
youth,  and  resolution  as  a  firm  bulwark  against  internal 
discords  and  mischievous  disloyalty.  It  is  as  brave 
a  thing  to  face  and  overcome  the  Evil  Spirit  at  home  as 

219 


220  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

it  is  to  face  him  in  the  field,  and  showers  of  fiery 
shrapnel  are  less  disintegrating  than  the  showers  of 
personal  malice  and  intrigue  directed  only  too  often 
against  the  men  to  whom  we  owe  the  amazing  and 
almost  miraculously  sudden  downfall  and  humiliation  of 
our  enemies  in  the  greatest  war  of  history. 

You  Canadians  have  strongly  helped  to  bring  this 
downfall  and  humiliation  to  pass ;  like  a  fine  family  of 
stalwart  sons,  you  have  formed  a  guard  of  honour  round 
your  Motherland,  and  defended  her  from  the  hands  of 
the  spoilers.  All  honour  to  you!  We  want  you  to 
know  and  to  believe  that  we  are  grateful,  and  that  we 
shall  never  forget  your  dauntless  daring  and  heroism! 
Ingratitude  is  the  commonest  and  yet  the  deadliest  of 
sins — ingratitude  to  God  in  the  first  place,  and,  in  the 
second,  ingratitude  to  the  men  whom  God  has  given  us 
to  be  our  saviours.  The  first  part  of  the  indictment  is 
a  matter  for  each  private  and  individual  conscience;  it 
is  for  every  man  and  woman  to  try  and  visualise  the 
devastation  and  misery  which  have  been  mercifully 
spared  to  the  uninvaded  British  Isles,  and  to  decide 
whether  his  or  her  thanksgiving  is  real,  and  deeply  felt. 
The  second  part  concerns  the  whole  people  of  Great 
Britain  and  her  Overseas  Dominions — whether  they,  in 
very  truth  and  earnest,  sufficiently  realise  what  they 
owe  to  the  sorely-tried  military  and  naval  leaders  upon 
whose  shoulders  has  fallen  the  gigantic  responsibility 
of  conducting  the  war  to  a  victorious  issue.  Not  to 
realise  it  is  to  be  guilty  of  a  mental  crime  so  monstrous 
as  to  be  almost  unimaginable.  And  yet,  the  moment 
political  pawns  are  set  on  the  chess-broad,  every  claim 
to  integrity  and  patriotism  is  questioned  and  argued 
from  the  base  point  of  view  of  "personal  interest." 


SPLENDID  CANADA  221 

Personal  interest  is  a  powerful  motive  force  with  most 
men,  but  it  does  not  count  with  heroes  like  Sir  Douglas 
Haig,  Admiral  Beatty,  or  Marshal  Foch.  Think  of 
these  men !  for  it  is  they  who  won  the  war — they,  who 
through  God,  have  given  us  the  victory!  Not  the 
talkers,  but  the  doers;  not  the  politicians,  but  the 
fighters,  among  whom  you,  brave  Canadians,  held  your 
part  like  the  heroes  of  an  epic.  You  are  rough,  per- 
chance, but  you  are  ready!  Some  there  are  who  say 
you  have  not  received  half  your  rightful  share  of  honour 
in  this  country;  if  this  is  so,  then  your  Motherland  is 
indeed  unworthy  of  your  prowess !  But  I  hardly  think 
this  is,  or  can  be  so.  You  do  not  get  the  true  voice 
of  the  British  People  in  the  British  Press — always 
remember  that!  The  People  know  their  best  men, 
and  honour  them  accordingly.  And  if,  by  chance,  they 
are  misled  occasionally,  and  those  leaders  whom  they 
have  believed  their  "best"  prove  false  to  the  trust  placed 
in  them,  none  so  swift,  sure,  and  deadly  as  the  British 
People  to  rend  them  for  their  broken  word.  They 
know  you,  Canadians,  as  their  blood-brothers;  and  as 
such  will  resent  any  wrong  inflicted  on  your  liberties 
and  commerce.  They  applaud  your  patriotism  and  re- 
joice in  your  courage;  you  are  the  younger  sons  of 
the  Empire,  and  in  the  name  of  one  Throne,  one  Flag, 
we  salute  you  and  give  you  our  heart's  gratitude! 


SHELLS;  AND  OTHER  SHELLS 

(Written  by  request  for  the  Magazine  published  on  behalf  of  the 
Munition  Workers  of  Georgetown,  Paisley) 

A   THOUGHT 

IN  one  of  the  finest  and  tenderest  poems  ever  written 
by  our  last  great  Laureate,  Alfred  Tennyson,  whose 
departure  from  this  world  closed,  for  the  time,  the 
reign  of  true  English  lyrical  melody,  there  occur  these 
delicately  beautiful  lines: — 

"See  what  a  lovely  shell 
Small  and  pure  as  a  pearl 

Lying  close  at  my  foot, 
Frail,  but  a  work  divine, 

Made  so  fairly  well 
With  delicate  spire  and  whorl 

How  exquisitely  minute ! 
A  miracle  of  design. 

The  tiny  cell  is  forlorn, — 
Void  of  the  little  living  will 

That  made  it  stir  on  the  shore. 

Did  he  stand  at  the  diamond  door 
Of  his  house,  in  a  rainbow  frill  ? 

Did  he  push,  when  he  was  uncurl'd, 
A  golden  foot  or  a  fairy  horn 

Through  his  dim  water-world  ?" 
222 


SHELLS;  AND  OTHER  SHELLS         223 

How  often  we  have  seen  such  shells  as  these! — and 
how  little  have  we  associated  the  familiar  name  of 
"shell"  with  any  thought  of  war  or  "shock"  or  blood- 
shed! Holding  a  sea-shell  close  against  our  ears  we 
listen  in  fancy  to  the  solemn  music  of  the  ocean  surging 
through  its  hollow  cavity, — the  ocean  with  its  sweeping 
thunderous  harmony, — though  all  the  time  we  know  it 
is  but  the  sound  of  our  own  life-blood  pouring  through 
our  veins  and  pulsing  upon  our  senses.  And  now,  when 
we  talk  of  "shells,"  we  mean  something  vastly  different 
to  the  "small  and  pure  as  a  pearl"  object  which  moved 
a  great  Poet  to  song — for  the  "pure"  thing  was  the 
work  of  God,  and  "a  miracle  of  design"  wrought  to 
suit  the  needs  of  the  "little  living  will  that  made  it 
stir  on  the  shore" ;  but  the  "shells"  we  have  to  do  with 
are  man's  work,  made  to  destroy  all  living  wills  that 
come  in  contact  with  them !  In  their  terrific  way  they 
too  are  "miracles  of  design,"  for  their  cavities  hold 
death  and  scatter  it  broadcast.  Still  more  wonderful 
it  is  to  realise  the  fact  that  women's  hands  have  been 
taught  and  trained  to  prepare  this  flying  death — 
women's  hands,  surely  formed  by  nature  for  tenderness 
and  caressing,  for  soothing  and  consoling !  How,  then, 
has  it  chanced  that  they  should  adapt  themselves  to 
such  dire  uses?  Why  do  they  labour  so  strenuously 
and  eagerly  to  make  weapons  for  the  armoury  of  the 
King  of  Terrors?  Women's  hands!  What  charming 
and  poetic  things  have  been  said  and  written  about 
them !  Think  of  the  hands  in  Fra  Angelico's  picture 
of  the  "Angel  of  the  Annunciation"  where  the  dainty 
tapering  fingers  are  as  exquisitely  delicate  as  the  buds 
of  the  lilies  they  hold !  Or,  recall  the  subtle  beauty  of 
Heine's  description  of  the  hand  of  an  unknown  lady, 


224  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

resting  white  and  beautiful  on  the  carved  edge  of  a 
confessional  in  a  dark  cathedral  aisle,  the  owner  of  the 
hand  being  too  enshrouded  in  shadows  to  be  visible. 

"So  still  and  pure  was  that  lovely  hand,"  wrote  the 
poet,  "that  whatever  sins  its  mistress  might  be  admitting 
to  her  confessor,  it  was  evident  that  of  itself  it  had 
nothing  to  do  with  sin  or  folly.  It  was  a  stainless  sweet- 
ness alone  and  apart,  and  shone  in  the  gloom  of  the  vast 
cathedral  like  a  sculptured  ivory  emblem  of  innocence." 

Nevertheless! — women's  hands  that  are,  or  that 
might  be,  as  delicate  and  caressable  as  those  of  Fra 
Angelico's  model,  or  Heine's  unseen  lady,  are  now  at 
work  in  the  strangest  kind  of  "annunciation" ! — the 
most  amazing  form  of  "confession"  !  Why  do  they  toil 
in  such  a  contrary  fashion  to  their  natural  bent  and 
inclination  ?  The  answer  is  swift  and  conclusive.  Be- 
cause Evil  is  let  loose  on  the  earth,  and  because  Good 
must  use  all  force  to  overcome  it.  And,  out  of  sternest 
necessity,  Good  must  arm  itself  with  weapons  that  shall 
not  only  match  but  surpass  those  employed  by  Evil. 
In  a  fight  against  devils,  angels  must  join  battle.  In 
some  of  the  most  magnificent  scenes  of  Milton's  "Para- 
dise Lost"  when  war  rages  between  the  warriors  of 
God  and  the  followers  of  Satan,  the  good  are  described 
as  fighting  against  the  bad  with  terrific  weapons  of 
attack,  and  the  outbursts  of  fire  hurled  against  the 
devilish  foe  were  none  the  less  potent  because  wrought 
by  the  angelic  hosts.  Our  women  workers  who  prepare 
the  munitions  of  war  are  one  and  all  inspired  by  the 
same  fixed  motive  and  desire — namely,  to  end  the  sor- 
rows and  suspense  of  the  suffering  nations  who  are 
involved  in  the  disastrous  upheaval  which  is  the  result 
of  a  people's  pitiful  belief  in  the  "divine  right,"  of  a 


SHELLS;  AND  OTHEK  SHELLS        225 

crowned  madman.  And  as  they  turn  out  "shells"  and 
yet  more  "shells,"  we  know  that  they  hope  and  believe 
that  for  every  one  completed,  at  least  one  of  the  fiendish 
murderers  of  the  innocent  may  be  dismissed  from  a 
world  which  his  presence  has  darkened.  Perchance 
they  may,  as  they  press  on  with  their  work,  hear  more 
mystic  sounds  than  are  conveyed  in  the  cavity  of  an 
empty  shell  "void  of  a  living  will"  on  the  sea-shore — 
for  their  filled  shell  speaks  of  their  own  blood,  burning 
with  grief  and  indignation  at  the  slaughter  of  their 
kindred — and  of  the  roar  and  thunder  of  the  guns  in- 
stead of  the  crashing  billows  of  the  sea.  Who  shall 
count  the  throbbing  thoughts  of  the  women  who  fill  these 
"shells"  ? — women  who  look  calm  enough  and  resolute 
enough,  and  who  work  on  tirelessly  and  almost  word- 
lessly, as  though  moved  by  a  single  heart,  beating 
through  each  one's  separate  labour !  A  visitor  to  a  shell 
factory  in  the  Midlands  said  to  me, — "They  work 
quite  mechanically;  I  think  they  hardly  know  what 
they  are  about."  Don't  they  know  what  they  are  about  ? 
Indeed  they  do !  They  know  they  are  making  weapons 
of  destruction  that  shall  bring  reprisals  for  the  deaths 
of  brave  men — they  know  that  they  are  helping  to  save 
the  lives  of  their  own  kinsmen,  and  with  all  their 
strength  they  "speed  up,"  because  they  feel  that  by 
so  doing  they  are  pushing  on  the  end  of  the  war.  We 
shall  never  be  able  to  realise  how  much  they  have 
done  for  us,  and  alas! — the  ingratitude  of  nations  to 
its  workers  is  proverbial.  It  takes  a  woman  to  under- 
stand woman's  enforced  labour,  and  to  enter  with  sym- 
pathy into  all  she  loses  by  taking  the  place  of  man  in 
hard  and  difficult  times — what  sacrifices  in  health  and 
vitality  she  makes  by  long  hours  of  steady  application 


226  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

to  monotonous  factory  work — what  temptations  she  has 
to  resist — what  bribes — yes! — bribes  of  cash  and  com- 
fort she  has  to  forgo.  For  the  enemy  is  busy  elsewhere 
than  on  the  field — insidious  and  indefatigable  in  stirring 
up  strife  in  this  country  and  sowing  the  seeds  of  dis- 
loyalty and  discontent,  and  it  says  much  for  our  women 
that  they  are  awake  and  alert  to  the  fact.  Of  the 
contemptible  few  who  "make  love"  to  "Fritz"  in  his 
prison  camp,  one  can  only  be  sorry  that  they  are  so 
"weak  in  the  upper  story !"  The  real  women  of  the 
Empire — the  women  who,  in  the  after-war  days  that 
are  coming,  will  have  so  much  of  the  country's  destiny 
in  their  guidance,  are  in  the  majority  sound,  sane,  and 
loyal — we  can  trust  them  with  work  even  more  momen- 
tous than  the  making  of  shells !  Meanwhile,  we  can  try 
to  be  grateful  to  them  for  their  steadiness  and  perserver- 
ance,  their  pluck  and  patience,  and  let  us  not  forget 
at  any  time  what  we  owe  to  them.  It  should  be  graven 
deep  on  the  records  of  the  nation  that — Without 
Women's  Work  the  War  Could  Not  Be  Won!  And  in 
the  hour  of  victory  let  us  not  fail  to  pay  them  our  debt 
of  Honour! 


DAKKKESS  ATO  LIGHT 

(Written  at  the  request  of  Sir  Arthur  Pearson  as  the  Prologue 
to  an  Entertainment  on  behalf  of  St.  Dunstan's  Hostel  for  Soldiers 
and  Sailors  Blinded  in  the  War) 

"Oh,  dark,  dark,  dark  amid  the  blaze  of  noon, 
Irrecoverably  dark!     Total  eclipse 
Without  all  hope  of  day ! ' ' 

Samson  Agonistes. 

You,  whose  eyes  are  able  to  read  these  tragic  lines  of 
blind  John  Milton,  can  you  realise  what  they  mean? 
Do  you  feel  to  the  innermost  core  of  your  heart  the 
blackness  of  that  "eclipse  without  all  hope  of  day," 
which  like  a  never-lifting  cloud  envelopes  those  from 
whom  the  blessing  of  sight  has  been  taken  for  ever! 
Can  you,  even  by  the  utmost  exertion  of  your  imagi- 
nation, truly  grasp  what  it  would  mean  to  you  if  all 
light  and  colour  were  blotted  out  from  your  conscious- 
ness, and  you  had  to  rely  on  a  merciful  guiding  hand 
to  lead  you  to  and  fro,  to  hold  you  lest  you  stumbled, 
and  conduct  you  from  places  of  business  or  pleasure 
safely  back  to  your  home  ?  If  you  could  not  see  beloved 
faces? — if  the  sunlight  could  never  again  reach  those 
poor  closed  channels  of  the  vision  you  once  enjoyed? 
— if  the  skies,  the  lovely  country,  the  woods  and  the 
ocean  were  all  glories  that  should  never  again  gladden 
your  sight? — if  this  were  so,  would  you  not  pray  to 
God  that  being  thus  handicapped  He  would  at  least 
give  you  friends?,  Friends  who  would  be  eyes  to  you, 

227 


228  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

hands  to  you — who  would  cheer  you  in  dreadful 
moments  of  depression  blacker  than  blindness,  and  who 
would  help  you  to  find  occupation  and  train  you  to  do 
useful  work,  although  sightless,  so  that  the  days  and 
years  should  not  be  so  fraught  with  monotony  and  dull 
regret;  and  that  life,  after  all,  should  not  seem  a 
barren  and  empty  thing  ? 

You  have  heard  of  St.  Dunstan's  Hostel  for  soldiers 
and  sailors  blinded  in  the  war  ?  It  is  now  one  of  earth's 
"Holy  Places" — holy  because  the  benediction  of  heaven 
has  made  it  a  sanctuary — a  sanctuary  of  love,  patience, 
self-sacrifice  and  untiring  devotion — holy,  because  the 
patiently  endured  martyrdom  of  a  brave  man  has  been 
and  is  its  spiritual  foundation.  Sir  Arthur  Pearson — 
(some  of  you  do  not  know  it  or  think  of  it) — is  himself 
blind.  And  what  makes  his  sorrow  darker  for  him, 
is  that  he  has  known  all  the  blessings  of  perfect  sight 
— he  has  enjoyed  all  the  activities  of  an  eager  and 
vigorous  life,  and  is  still  in  the  prime  of  manhood. 
"How  sad  for  him !"  murmurs  the  conventional  Society 
voice — "Such  a  drawback !"  Yes,  how  sad ! — but  what 
gladness  for  others  he  gathers  from  his  own  handicap ! 
— what  splendid  results  have  sprung  from  his  "draw- 
back!"— what  sunshine  pours  from  the  cloud  of  his 
night!  The  American  essayist,  Emerson,  in  advising 
one  stricken  with  adversity,  writes,  "Be  like  the  wounded 
oyster,  mend  your  shell  with  a  pearl!"  With  what  a 
pearl  of  great  price  has  Arthur  Pearson  mended  his 
life's  wound !  Knowing  the  bitterness  of  blindness,  he 
has  devoted  all  his  energies  to  the  care  of  the  blind 
and  to  the  lightening  of  their  darkness,  especially  to 
those  heroes  who,  in  the  very  hey-day  of  their  youth 
and  manliness  have  gone  unhesitatingly  forth  to  face 


DAKKNESS  AND  LIGHT  229 

the  foe  in  this  wickedest  of  wars,  and  have  been  blinded 
by  shot  and  shell  explosions,  losing  all  sense  of  vision 
in  one  cruel  moment — a  moment  that  rings  down  the 
curtain  on  all  scenes  and  faces  for  ever !  Shall  we  not, 
with  all  our  hearts,  help  the  sublime  cause  of  "love  to 
our  neighbours,"  and  consolation  to  our  self-sacrificing 
soldiers  and  sailors,  taught  to  us  by  the  example  of 
this  Englishman  who  does  not  protest,  but  lives  his 
Christian  faith  in  a  manner  that  Christ  must  surely 
approve  ?  It  would  be  trespassing  on  sacred  ground  to 
presume  to  guess  how  much  heavenly  light  has  been 
mystically  shed  on  his  own  darkness  by  this  noble 
dedication  of  his  sorrow  to  noblest  ends.  But  it  may 
be  reverently  said  that  he  has  followed  as  far  as  is 
humanly  possible  the  Divine  Teacher  who,  in  healing 
a  blind  man,  "put  His  hands  upon  his  eyes  and  made 
him  look  up."  In  this  we  can  all  help.  We  can  make 
our  brave,  blind  friends,  the  soldiers  and  sailors, 
rendered  sightless  for  our  sakes,  "look  up!"  We  can 
make  them  feel  they  are  not  alone  and  helpless  in  a 
dark  world;  we  can  convince  them  that  their  welfare 
is  dear  to  us,  and  that  we  are  fully  conscious  of  the 
immense  sacrifices  they  have  made  for  us  and  for  the 
country.  Let  us  all  then  do  our  utmost  and  best  for 
St.  Dunstan's  and  strengthen  the  hands  of  its  Eounder, 
and  let  it  never  be  said  that  we  were  guilty  of  the 
meanest  vice  known  to  humanity — Ingratitude! 


SWEEPING  THE  COUNTRY 

THEY  say  it  does;  and  I  hardly  wonder!  The  broom 
is  so  long  and  searchful;  it  goes  into  so  many  holes 
and  corners  that  surely  not  a  single  spider's  web  is 
left  unvisited.  It  gathers  up  the  pale  dust  of  British 
gullability  with  an  admirable  adroitness,  and  what 
is  perhaps  the  best  thing  about  it  is  that  it  pays  for 
its  sweepings.  Not  every  broom  does  thatl  But  I 
am  told — I  do  not  assert  it  or  vouch  for  it — that  it  is  a 
German  broom;  and  no  make  of  broom  in  all  the 
world  is  more  capable  of  industry  or  more  resistless  to 
wear  and  tear.  Opposed  as  we  are,  and  as  we  must 
be,  to  German  militarism,  German  labour  will,  I  fear, 
be  always  ahead  of  us,  especially  if  the  German  worker 
puts  in  eight  or  ten  hours  where  the  British  decides 
to  give  only  four  or  six.  This  is  a  matter  for  future 
testing;  in  the  meanwhile  let  us  consider  with  atten- 
tion, in  capital  letters  "THIS  MORNING'S  NEWS 
ABOUT  PELMANISM,"  as  it  appears  in  that  esteemed 
journal  The  Sunday  Times,  to  which  I  have  had  the 
honour  to  contribute.  It  is  but  the  other  day  that 
I  was  assured  "on  the  highest  authority"  (as  the 
bewildered  press  reporters  at  the  Peace  Conference 
have  expressed  it)  that  "Pelman"  was  originally  spelt 
"Poehlmann,"  and  that  at  discreet  intervals  his  "Magic 
Card"  would  be  followed  by  another,  inscribed  "Roth." 
Both  names  have  the  euphonious  Teuton  ring  about 
them,  and  they  both  imply  Money — money  spent 

230 


SWEEPING  THE  COUNTRY  231 

lavishly  and  magnificently  on  the  "flowing  tide  of 
Pelmanism"  by  way  of  opulent  and  ceaseless  advertise- 
ment in  all  the  newspapers  which  joyously  yield  their 
columns  to  cash  rather  than  to  intelligent  information, 
and  give  up  whole  pages  to  "Pelman"  or  "Roth"  in- 
discriminately, in  competition  with  a  kindly  Swedish 
masseur  or  exercise-man,  who  in  equally  lavish  an- 
nouncements and  large  type,  promises  health  to  the 
healthless  even  as  "Pelman"  and  "Roth"  promise  brain 
to  the  brainless.  Of  "Roth"  I  know  little  except  that 
according  to  advertisement  "he  is  a  remarkable  man" 
(of  which  I  am  entirely  convinced),  but  of  "Pelman" 
I  have  learned  something  at  first  hand.  I  have  learned, 
for  instance,  how  it  is  that  the  spacious,  tremendous, 
profuse,  and  overpowering  advertisements  of  this  system 
of  brain-forcing  flood  every  corner  of  the  press,  squeez- 
ing out  by  their  size  and  the  space  they  occupy  legiti- 
mate news  of  interest  to  the  public;  of  course,  the  first 
and  chief  reason  is  that  they  are  paid  for.  Every- 
thing in  every  line  of  business,  pleasure  or1  social 
position,  is  paid  for;  even  the  clergyman  who  pro- 
fesses to  show  you  the  way  to  heaven  is  paid  for.  Then 
surely  it  follows  that  Pelman  or  Poehlmann  must  be 
a  multi-millionaire?  No!  he  need  not  be.  As  the 
controller  of  the  "flowing  tide"  he  may  make  others 
pay,  and  so  may  command  cash  without  being  person- 
ally wealthy.  He  no  doubt  realises  the  truth  of  what 
a  certain  frank  proprietor  of  pickles  assured  me — 
"If  advertising  is  done  well  and  continuously  it  brings 
in  double  and  treble  the  money  it  costs."  And  the 
channels  in  which  the  "flowing  tide"  is  set  to  run  are 
cleverly  prepared  and  delved  out  in  the  shifting  sands 
of  British  innocence  and  credulity — two  admirable 


232  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

traits  of  our  national  character.  It  is  a  touching  thing 
to  realise  that  the  guileless  Briton  should  so  simply 
confess  himself  to  "Pelman"  as  mindless  and  memory- 
less — and  it  is  equally  pathetic  to  discover  in  the 
"Census"  of  "Pelmanists"  there  can  be  counted  one 
barmaid,  one  bacon-curer,  and  one  "corporation  official"  ! 
"Art  and  music  and  literature  are  being  re-born,"  says 
Pelman — and  no  doubt  the  Pelmanists  are  already  in 
travail.  It  is  all  very  clever  and  amusing;  a  little 
comedy  in  which  the  guileless  Briton  is  the  bear  that 
dances  to  the  Pelman  pipings.  I  admire  cleverness 
wherever  I  find  it;  it  is  a  star  in  the  general  murk  of 
stupidity,  and  I  am  the  last  person  in  the  world  to 
depreciate  the  brilliancy  of  its  glitter.  But  it  has 
interested  me  to  study  the  movements  of  this  particular 
scheme,  and  chance  or  fortune  placed  one  or  two  threads 
in  my  hands  which  seemed  to  suggest  a  clue.  Briefly 
then,  I  was  offered  Fifty  Guineas  to  "write  up" 
Pelmanism.  The  offer  came  through  a  very  agreeable 
and  enterprising  journalist,  employed,  I  presume,  to 
secure  fresh  supplies  for  the  "flowing  tide,"  and  he 
added  to  his  own  personal  and  friendly  entreaties  a  con- 
siderable quantity  of  literary  matter  setting  forth  the 
miraculous  improvement  in  heretofore  dull  brains  under 
the  influence  of  Pelman  or  Poehlmann.  I  made  a 
careful  study  of  these  documents,  and  the  first  thing 
that  dawned  on  my  own  dim  intelligence  was  that 
every  would-be  student  of  the  "course"  would  be  called 
upon  to  pay  six  guineas,  either  in  one  sum  or  by  "easy 
instalments,"  though  one  can  have  a  copy  of  the  book 
entitled  Mind  and  Memory  (which  tell  "all  about" 
Pelmanism  but  does  not  instruct)  gratis,  and  in  that 
book  are  "particulars"  showing  how  one  can  obtain 


SWEEPING  THE  COUNTRY  233 

the  "course"  at  a  reduced  fee.  Thanks  to  my  journalist 
friend  I  had  the  gratis  book  (in  its  forty-fourth  edition, 
and  for  this  reason  called  "The  World's  Most  Widely 
Head  Book" — well !  with  all  diffidence  allow  me  to  hint 
that  this  is  incorrect,  as  I  myself  am  the  author  of 
one  or  two  books  in  their  fifty-first  editions),  but  the 
"Course"  did  not  tempt  me  to  disburse  guineas,  not 
even  had  I  accepted  the  Fifty  offered.  (I  may  say 
here  that  I  never  accept  "tips.")  But  I  could  not,  and 
cannot  refrain  from  considering  how,  if  the  scheme 
works  successfully,  as  of  course  it  must,  the  British 
public  are  paying  for  these  splendid  advertisements  I 
Paying  so  well  that  it  is  easy  to  understand  how  the 
Pelman  promoters  can  afford  to  pay  Fifty  Guineas,  more 
or  less,  to  the  obliging  individuals  who  are  ready  and 
willing  to  praise  the  "system."  Canon  Hannay 
("George  A.  Birmingham")  for  instance — does  he  get 
Fifty  Guineas  ?  Or  Mr.  Spencer  Leigh  Hughes,  M.P.  ? 
Or  dear  George  R.  Sims?  Or  Mr.  Gilbert  Frankau? 
Or  do  they  send  in  their  testimonials  gratis?  I  feel 
that  I  cannot  be  the  only  "eminent"  (to  quote  adver- 
tisement) person  who  has  received  the  munificent 
offer  of  Fifty  Guineas,  and  refused  the  same!  In  the 
Pelman  "Census"  I  note  there  are  339  accountants, 
8  actresses,  490  clergymen,  and — one  archbishop! 
Whereby  it  would  seem  that  accountants  and  clergy- 
men need  more  brain-prodding  than  others.  And  if 
the  "one  Archbishop"  should  consent  to  "write  up" 
the  advantages  of  the  "course"  (like  Mr.  Will  Owen, 
who  declares  that,  artist  though  he  professes  to  be, 
he  had  "hardly  begun  the  first  lesson  in  Pelmanism 
before  he  discovered  something  he  had  been  drawing 
incorrectly  all  his  life),  sure  His  Grace  would  merit 


234  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

a  Hundred  Guineas  for  his  good  work  at  the  very 
least  ?  Anyhow  his  fee  should  be  more  than  that  of  a 
"bacon-curer"  or  a  novelist !  In  openly  confessing  the 
offer  to  myself  of  Fifty  Guineas  which  I  refused  without 
a  moment's  hesitation,  I  do  so  that  I  may  call  the 
attention  and  admiration  of  the  public  to  the  clever 
way  certain  people  manage  to  make  money  through 
human  gullability.  The  brain-prodders  and  memory- 
pushers  are  almost  as  astute  as  Government  officials. 
The  mass  of  people  who  never  stop  to  think,  still  less 
to  calculate,  are  their  happy  hunting-ground.  Personally 
I  think  Pelman  and  Roth  too  "sharp"  to  be  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race,  though  I  do  not  assert  them  to  be 
Germans,  naturalised  or  de-naturalised.  But  they  have 
the  Teuton  line  of  intelligence;  that  is,  wherever  they 
find  a  good  thick  soil  of  stupidity,  they  plant  seed 
therein,  fertilise  it  and  make  it  grow.  These  special 
people  who  feed  the  coffers  of  journalism  by  purchasing 
whole  pages  of  space  for  their  advertisements,  are  so 
convinced  of  the  thickness  and  richness  of  Anglo-Amer- 
ican stupidity  that  they  boldly  offer  to  transmute  it, 
like  alchemists,  into  the  gold  of  intellectual  ability,  and 
if  this  could  be  done  'twere  a  worthy  thing.  But  one 
must  pause  at  the  idea  they  put  forward — "If  only 
we  had  1,000,000  clever  thinkers!"  It  is  too  terrific! 
This  poor  earth  of  ours  could  not  survive !  Its  rolling 
ball  like  a  bomb  would  burst  in  space,  overburdened  by 
the  sheer  weight  of  brain !  Be  merciful,  therefore,  O 
munificent  Pelman!  spare  us,  gentle  Roth!  Do  not 
instruct  the  bacon-curer  or  train  the  Archbishop  beyond 
what  we  have  the  strength  to  endure!  Do  not  compel 
us  to  bow  the  knee  to  the  "barmaid"  as  another  De 
Stael! — to  the  "corporation  official"  as  a  new  Admir- 


SWEEPING  THE  COUNTRY  235 

able  Crichton !  It  is  the  American  philosopher  Emer- 
son who  writes,  "Let  the  world  beware  when  a  Thinker 
comes  into  it !"  But  "1,000,000  thinkers !"  The  pro- 
spect is  horrible — spare  us,  good  Lord !  We  have  much 
to  be  thankful  for  in  Carlyle's  famous  assertion  "most 
fools,"  for  if  our  population  were  all  wise,  life  would 
be  dull  indeed!  Fools  make  the  gaiety  of  nations — 
they  are  the  staple  support  of  all  governments — the 
foundation  of  the  press  and  the  drama — the  stock-in- 
trade  of  all  authors,  philosophers,  and  wits  whatsoever, 
and  Heaven  forbid  we  should  ever  be  deprived  of  their 
existence !  We  are  always  more  or  less  in  the  position 
of  Shakespeare's  "melancholy  Jacques"  and  ready  to* 
say,  "A  fool,  a  fool,  I  met  a  fool  i'  the  forest!  as  I 
do  live  by  food  I  met  a  fool !"  and  when  we  chance  on 
company  with  this  simple  friend  of  all  men  should  we 
"Pelmanise"  or  "Roth"  him  ?  Never  I  He  is  too  valu- 
able an  asset  to  the  world ! 


TO  SAVE  LIFE  OR  DESTROY  IT  ? 

A    CHALLENGE    TO    CERTAIN    CLERGY 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mall  Qazette") 

DOES  the  Christian  Church  profess  to  follow  the  teach- 
ing of  Christ  ?  Or  the  Law  of  Moses  ?  That  is  to  say : 
Is  it  Christian  or  Jewish?  If  Jewish,  its  "sabbath" 
should  be  kept  on  Saturday,  in  conformance  with  the 
rest  of  the  Jewish  world ;  if  Christian,  then,  according 
to  Christ,  we  may,  if  necessity  compels,  do  imperative 
work  on  Sunday.  But  a  section  of  our  clergy  are  up 
in  arms  at  the  idea  of  "profaning  the  Lord's  Day"  by 
allowing  labour  of  tillage  and  planting  the  land  on 
Sundays,  for  the  necessities  of  the  nation's  food.  Where 
do  these  contentious  persons  get  their  authority  ?  Not 
from  their  divine  Master!  Their  spirit  is  that  of 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  who  "watched"  Our  Lord — 
"whether  he  would  heal  on  the  sabbath  day,  that  they 
might  find  an  accusation  against  Him."  The  world 
has  not  outgrown  that  contemptible  spirit.  "That  they 
might  find  an  accusation"  is  often  everybody's  aim 
and  clearest  business !  "Then  said  Jesus  unto  them — 
I  will  ask  you  one  thing:  Is  it  lawful  on  the  sabbath 
days  to  do  good  or  to  do  evil  ? — to  save  life  or  destroy 
it  ?"  And  when  the  hypocrites  could  not  answer  Him, 
He  healed  the  afflicted  man  who  had  sought  His  aid, 
whereat  those  who  had  "watched"  Him,  so  says  the  Gos- 
pel narrative,  "were  filled  with  madness  and  communed 

236 


TO  SAVE  LIFE  OR  DESTROY  IT?     237 

one  with  another  what  they  might  do  to  Him."  But,  de- 
spite  His  scorn  of  their  narrow  sectarianism,  "He  went 
out  into  a  mountain  to  pray,  and  continued  all  night 
in  prayer  to  God." 

No  true  servant  of  Christ  can  find  the  least  excuse 
in  any  one  of  the  Divine  Teacher's  commands  for  a 
rigidly  sectarian  observance  of  Sunday.  A  seventh 
day's  rest  was  wisely  and  rightly  instituted  by  Moses 
for  the  relief  of  the  Israelites  when  they  had  been 
worked  as  slaves  by  their  Egyptian  taskmasters;  but 
Christ  never  incorporated  its  observance  as  any  part 
of  the  instructions  He  gave  to  His  disciples.  "What 
man  shall  there  be  among  you,"  He  said,  "that  shall 
have  one  sheep,  and  if  it  fall  into  a  pit  on  the  sabbath 
day,  will  he  not  lay  hold  on  it  and  lift  it  out?  How 
much,  then,  is  a  man  better  than  a  sheep  ?  Wherefore, 
it  is  lawful  to  do  well  on  the  sabbath  days." 

Mark  those  last  words !  They  were  spoken  by  One 
"in  whom  there  was  no  guile."  It  is  lawful  to  do  well 
on  the  sabbath  days.  ,And  yet,  Oh !  narrow  and  rigid 
men  who  "profess"  Christ,  you,  who  see  and  know  that 
on  the  feeding  of  our  population  depends  their  health, 
their  strength,  and  their  ultimate  victory  over  a  bar- 
barous foe,  you  would  discourage  the  willing  hearts 
and  hinder  the  ready  hands  from  virtuous  and  un- 
selfish labour  on  Sundays  in  a  time  of  unexampled 
national  necessity !  Shame !  For  the  blessing  of  God 
must  be  on  all  such  honest  workers  whose  toil  is  for 
the  help  and  honour  of  their  country.  Christ  told  us 
there  were  but  two  commandments,  not  ten — the  first: 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  soul 
and  with  all  thy  mind  and  with  all  thy  strength" — and 
the  second :  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself. 


238  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

There  is  none  other  commandment  greater  than  these." 

•  •••••• 

!Now  what  do  the  dogmatists  make  of  this?  If  we 
truly  love  God,  we  surely  know  His  "work"  never 
ceases.  We  could  not  live  a  second  without  His  sustain- 
ing principle.  Every  moment  of  every  hour  some  active 
propulsion  of  creative  force  labours  to  produce  a  result 
which  is  perfect  of  its  kind.  On  whatever  day  we  sow 
our  wheat  we  cannot  stop  its  growing  on  Sundays. 
The  energies  of  Divine  beneficence  never  slacken.  If 
they  did,  existence  itself  would  be  at  an  end.  Our 
"love"  of  God  must  therefore  include  our  consciousness 
of  His  unresting  "work"  for  His  creation.  Then,  if 
we  are  to  love  our  neighbour  as  ourselves,  it  follows 
that  we  must  care  for  his  sustenance  as  well  as  our 
own.  In  times  like  the  present  we  must  help  him  to 
produce  food  for  himself  and  his  family,  even  if  we 
till  the  land  on  Sundays,  which,  so  employed,  may  be 
considered  truly  "holy"  days.  For  "it  is  lawful  to 
do  well  on  the  sabbath  days,"  and  it  is  better  to  benefit 
a  neighbour  than  listen  to  a  sermon.  That  is,  if  we 
accept  the  teaching  of  Christ  and  assume  to  be  Chris- 
tians. The  times  are  pressing;  the  necessity  for  food 
production  urgent;  and  men  owe  it  as  a  duty  to  the 
land  God  gives  them  that  it  should  yield  sufficient  to 
keep  the  population  in  health  and  safety.  Therefore, 
if  this  needful,  noble  work  has  to  be  done  quickly,  there 
is  no  sin,  but  rather  great  virtue  and  self-sacrifice,  in 
working  on  Sundays  as  well  as  weekdays  during  a  time 
of  war  and  stress.  If  any  of  the  clergy  can  quote  a 
single  one  of  Christ's  own  words  forbidding  necessary 
work  on  Sundays,  let  them  do  so.  Christ's  own  words, 
remember !  They  are  generally  ignored  by  all  Churches. 


TO  SAVE  LIFE  OR  DESTROY  IT?     239 

Had  they  ever  been  obeyed,  the  purity  and  strength  of 
a  perfect  Faith  would,  long  ere  this,  have  exterminated 
War.  l^ow,  all  good  "Christian"  clergy,  who  object 
to  necessary  national  work  on  Sundays,  produce  your 
Master's  warrant  for  such  action — if  you  can!  I  say 
you  cannot ! 


THE  WAR  LOAtf 

HOW   IT    MIGHT    BE   INCREASED 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mall  Gazette") 

WE  are  all  bound  for  victory.  Every  nerve  and  sinew 
of  every  man  and  woman  in  Imperial  Britain  is  bent 
on  the  task  of  winning  it,  not  only  for  ourselves,  but 
for  the  whole  civilised  world.  America  knows,  and  the 
intimidated  and  secretly  tampered  with  neutrals  also 
know,  as  well  as  we  do,  that  the  full  triumph  of  the 
Allies  means  their  great  peace  as  well  as  ours — their 
advantage,  their  progress,  their  commerce,  as  well  as 
ours.  That  brave  and  straight-speaking  hero  of  science, 
Thomas  Edison,  recently  said:  "The  people  of  the 
world  have  willed  that  they  shall  be  their  own  masters, 
and  what  the  people  will  is  sure  to  come  to  pass."  True 
enough,  it  is  the  people  only  who  can  realise  every 
aim,  every  ideal,  every  conquest;  and  in  this  matter 
of  the  War  Loan  they  can  raise  a  veritable  mountain 
of  gold  if  they  so  determine.  But — there  is  a  "but" 
in  their  willingness :  an  obstacle  in  the  race — they  will 
not  give  as  much  as  they  would  if  they  have  to  realise 
that  some  of  it  or  any  of  it  may  be  used  to  pay  wages 
and  provide  food  for  German  foes  dwelling  in  our 

very  midst. 

•  •••>.. 

Think  of  it!    Is  it  reasonable,  is  it  just,  to  ask  this 
patient,    docile,    strong,    and    law-abiding    people    of 

240 


THE  WAR  LOAN  241 

Britain  to  give  their  lives,  their  homes,  their  children, 
their  time,  with  all  their  service  and  money,  towards 
the  vigorous  and  incessant  prosecution  of  the  war,  when 
they  know  that  there  are  more  than  20,000  German 
foes  kept  at  large  in  this  realm,  free  to  do  as  they  will  ? 
Twenty  thousand,  who  go  about  in  all  towns  and 
villages  unchallenged,  listening,  spying,  noting  every 
coign  and  circumstance  of  vantage,  and  often  (assuming 
to  be  English  themselves)  using  persuasion  to  prejudice 
the  Loan  among  the  uninstructed  classes. 

Twenty  thousand  enemies,  prepared  and  ready  to 
work  devastation  at  the  first  opportunity,  while  we 
"hush  up"  all  that  may  seem  unchivalrous  or  to  the 
dear  creatures'  detriment !  Is  it  right  that  these  same 
Germans  should  have  their  own  meeting  places  and 
restaurants  in  London  as  freely  as  if  they  were  in 
Berlin  ?  And,  to  add  insult  to  the  injury  of  the  whole 
position,  is  it  even  sane  that  our  authorities  should 
actually  permit  Germans  to  work  in  our  munition 
factories?  Germans  who,  when  they  leave  the  works 
and  go  to  their  eating  houses,  take  off  their  munition 
badges  and  spit  on  them  in  token  of  their  contempt 
for  Britain,  even  while  they  are  accepting  British  pay 
and  eating  British  food! 

What  does  it  mean,  this  employment  of  Germans  in 
British  munition  factories?  Death-dealing  explosions, 
of  course!  What  else  can  any  one,  not  entirely  a 
drivelling  idiot,  expect?  Is  it  likely  that  a  German 
will  make  shells  absolutely  as  they  should  be  made 
for  the  destruction  of  his  own  countrymen?  No;  he 
would  rather  burn  down  the  whole  factory! — and  he 
does  if  he  gets  the  chance.  Nor  can  he  be  blamed; 


242  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

it  is  the  authorities  who  are  to  blame  for  putting  him 
in  the  way  of  temptation  to  murder.  There  is  some- 
thing so  "dumb-driven,  cattle-like"  in  the  sheer  stupid- 
ity of  two  or  three  of  our  Governmental  Departments 
that  one  is  fain  to  compassionate  them  as  one  might 
compassionate  sheep  bumping  their  heads  against  a 
stone  wall  and  expecting  to  get  through. 

*••*••• 

If  a  house  is  threatened  with  burglary,  is  it  reasonable 
to  ask  the  burglar  in  on  a  "dine  and  sleep"  visit  ?  Yet 
that  is  what  is  being  done  with  the  Germans  in  our 
country  to-day.  And  it  is  not  possible  that  our  people 
can  or  will  rise  to  their  full  strength,  either  in  service 
or  in  money,  as  long  as  they  are  affronted  by  the 
presence  of  the  enemy  in  the  centres  of  their  business 
and  social  life.  The  extraordinary  indulgence  shown  to 
the  Huns  in  London  is  a  perpetual  worry  to  our  French 
friends,  who  cannot  understand  it.  They  discuss  it 
and  deplore  it  as  a  sign  of  weakness.  But  whatever  it 
is,  we  may  be  sure  it  will  not  be  allowed  to  last.  Once 
the  people  take  the  law  into  their  own  hands  nothing 
will  stop  them.  Apres  $0,  le  deluge! 

No  spitting  on  British  munition  badges  then!  No 
extra  allowances  of  food  to  German  prisoners  while 
British  folk  are  ordered  to  measure  their  rations! 
No  "official"  posts  for  men  with  German  wives !  Taken 
as  a  whole,  the  position  is  more  than  scandalous.  The 
British  people  have  every  right  to  demand  that  their 
own  land  shall  be  cleansed  of  all  the  associates  of  the 
pirates  and  murderers  who  slay  their  men,  women, 
and  children  without  mercy,  and  who  yet  remain  here, 
living  at  the  nation's  expense.  Every  German  at  large 
in  these  islands  is  a  walking  "wireless"  of  swift  and 


THE  WAK  LOAN  243 

useful  information  to  headquarters.  Each  new  device 
of  Britain  for  worsting  the  foe  is  at  once  conveyed  to 
those  most  interested,  and  our  newspapers,  frequently 
more  zealous  than  discreet,  lend  their  aid  by  giving 
details,  and  often  illustrations,  of  the  latest  of  our 
scientific  inventions  for  warfare. 

•  *»•••• 

It  is  time  this  matter  was  handled  boldly,  with 
"gloves  off,"  as  Queen  Elizabeth  would  have  handled 
it.  She  would  have  sent  all  Germans  out  of  the  country 
at  the  very  declaration  of  war,  and  so  would  have  saved 
an  infinite  number  of  treasons  against  the  State.  Late 
in  the  day  as  it  is,  why  not  send  them  now  ?  Send  them 
all,  in  comfort  and  luxury  if  you  will,  with  "rations"  of 
first-class  food,  on  British  ships  flying  the  British  flag, 
and  let  them  take  their  chance  of  the  kindness  and 
humanity  of  their  own  countrymen.  They  will  be  use- 
ful additions  to  the  "national  service"  of  their  Vater- 
land — we  do  not  want  them  here.  Our  own  men  and 
women  will  suffice  us  for  our  own  labor,  and  work  will 
be  done  more  readily,  while  money  will  flow  in  more 
plentifully,  when  we  are  sure  that  our  own  land  is 
purged  of  the  Hun,  and  that  we  are  not,  like  fools, 
paying  to  keep  and  feed  plotters  against  the  peace  of 
the  realm. 


FOOD  PKODUCTION 

A  PLEA  FOE  COMMON  SENSE 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mali  Gazette") 

TALK  of  "National  Service!"  Where  is  the  man, 
woman,  or  child  that  refuses  to  do  any  really  necessary 
or  useful  work  "for  the  country  ?  Such  cannot  be  found ! 
There  is  an  eager  and  splendid  willingness  in  every  one 
to  give  his  or  her  best ;  but  without  proper  organisation 
the  fine  forces  of  this  fine,  patient,  and  enduring  people 
are  scattered  and  disunited.  From  all  that  the  be- 
wildered mind  can  gather  through  the  roaring  mega- 
phone of  an  apparently  semi-crazed  and  ruinously 
expensive  system  of  advertisement,  the  National 
Service  most  demanded  is  "food  production."  So  says 
Mr.  Prothero.  Very  well.  Then  why  not  set  about  it 
in  an  orderly  practical  manner,  without  screaming  our 
shortcomings  aloud  for  the  amusement  of  the  Germans  ? 
There  is  no  difficulty  whatever  in  sufficient  food  pro- 
duction if  some  sort  of  method  be  brought  into  the 
present  chaos.  Take  this  for  an  example: — 

With  the  help  of  an  old  soldier  with  a  wooden  leg 
and  an  old  man  of  seventy,  a  pig  farmer  and  market 
gardener  was  able  to  put  on  the  market  in  six  months 
£1487  worth  of  pork  and  £174  of  garden  produce. 

In  the  next  three  months  he  anticipates  an  addition 
to  his  stock  of  about  240  pigs  from  his  twenty-five 
breeding  sows. 

244 


FOOD  PEODUCTIOF  245 

Already  lie  has  211  pigs  on  the  place,  apart  from  the 
breeding  animals. 

What  can  be  done  in  one  place  can  be  done  in  another, 
and  if  every  rural  town  and  village  were  encouraged 
to  work  its  own  allotments,   if   every  cottager  were 
persuaded  to  grow  his  or  her  own  garden  produce,  and 
keep  pigs  and  poultry,  half  the  food  problem  would 
be  solved.     Why  not  organise  such  a  plan  and  con- 
centrate scattered  forces  ?    It  would  be  a  mistake  to  con- 
fide the  management  of  such  a  scheme  to  "local"  mag- 
nates, whether  mayors  or  members  of  corporations,  for 
those  who  have  any  experience  of  such  "bodies"  know 
well  enough  what  hindrances  they  are  in  the  way  of 
active  progress,  having  always  their  own  axes  to  grind. 
But  an  impartial,  unprejudiced,  friendly  director  of 
each  agricultural  centre,  a  man  or  woman  of  helpful, 
sympathetic  and  practical  knowledge,  who  would  en- 
courage the  workers  and  spare  them  any  of  that  "su- 
perior" tone  of  insolence  so  hurtfully  employed  by  some 
of  the  temporary  jacks-in-office  on  our  military  tribu- 
nals,  could  very  easily   energise  the  whole  business. 
Suppose,  too,  that  instead  of  a  daily  patter  about  pota- 
toes and   "shortage,"   the   Government  were  to   offer 
prizes  from  ten  to  a  hundred  pounds  for  the  cottagers 
and  holders  of  allotments  who,  in  six  months,  should 
produce  most  food  for  their  own  families  and  neigh- 
bours, would  it  not  cost  less  money  than  the  printing 
of  millions  of   "food  tickets"  ?     Certainly,   it  would 
hearten,  not  dishearten,  the  workers,  and  give  them 
an  extra  zest  for  "production." 

Moreover,  it  is  high  time  our  rulers  and  Ministers 
left  off  talking  about  "shortage  of  food"  altogether,  if 
the  following  is  true : — > 


246  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

A  statement  made  in  the  House  of  Commons  recently 
emphasises  the  fact  that  German  agents  are  still  active 
in  this  country.  In  refusing  to  supply  a  member  with 
certain  information  about  the  supply  of  aeroplanes,  he 
said:  "Any  answer  we  give  in  this  House  is  at  once 
sent  to  Germany." 

Printed  or  written  information  can  always  be  stopped 
by  the  censor.  The  question  remains:  How  is  the 
information  conveyed? 

How,  indeed?  Why  should  we  give  the  Huns  the 
satisfaction  of  supposing  we  need  food?  Or  allowing 
them  to  think  their  U-boats  are  "blockading"  us  into 
famine?  Let  the  public  keep  its  "weather  eye"  open, 
and  consider  recent  events  in  Russia!  There,  part  of 
the  German  scheme  was  "to  create  an  artificial  scarcity 
of  food,  so  as  to  precipitate  food  riots  and  compel  a 
separate  peace." 

Beware  of  the  dog!  How  about  Great  Britain? 
Who  can  swear  that  the  same  "influence"  is  not  at  work 
here,  "to  create  an  artificial  scarcity  of  food"  ?  And  if 
it  should  be  so,  why  do  our  politicians  fall  sheer  into 
the  trap  and  spread  the  mischief  which  the  foe  may 
have  started  ?  Food  was  poured  into  Petrograd  as  soon 
as  the  German  "unseen  hand"  was  cut  off.  It  is  a 
significant  fact  worth  remembering ! 

•  •••••• 

Again,  let  it  be  emphasised  that  there  is  no  difficulty 
about  food  production  in  these  islands  if  the  work  be 
properly  organised.  Food  is  not  grown  on  emotional 
impulse,  such  as  that  displayed  by  a  charming  lady 
I  lately  met,  who  told  me  with  sweet  resignation:  "I 
will  not  have  flowers  in  my  window  boxes  this  summer. 
I  shall  plant  potatoes  in  them  instead!"  Dear  soul! 


FOOD  PRODUCTION  247 

She  evidently  thought  it  worth  while!     Just  as  some 
folks  think  it  worth  while  to  dig  up  and  disfigure  the 
parks  of  London  with  potato  growing  when  there  is 
any  amount  of  waste  land  around  which  needs  culti- 
vation !    One  deplores  "the  falsehood  of  extremes." 
•  •••••• 

If  we  are  to  accept  Mr.  Prothero's  statement,  the 
most  important  line  of  "national  service"  is  this  food 
production.  Then,  let  him  take  action  and  not  listen 
to  hearsay  or  report.  Let  him  see  for  himself  the 
thousands  of  acres  in  this  country  waiting  to  be  culti- 
vated and  to  produce  richly  and  royally  all  that  is 
needed  for  the  population.  Let  there  be  common  sense 
organisation  in  each  district — not  "compulsion";  the 
people  are  too  cheerfully  brave  and  willing  to  be  "com- 
pelled." But  no  one  cares  to  work  in  the  dark  without 
a  plan,  and  without  any  encouragement.  They  are  told 
to  "produce  food,"  but  are  denied  labour  to  produce  it. 
The  capable  field-worker  is  taken,  and  inefficient  sub- 
stitutes sent  instead — men  who  do  not  know  how  to 
plant  a  root  or  sow  a  seed,  with  the  obvious  result  that 
plants  and  seeds  represent  so  much  money  thrown 
away.  But,  once  more  to  emphasise  the  need  of  com- 
mon sense,  let  us  hold  fast  the  fact  that  no  lack  of  food 
is  possible  to  this  country  if  things  are  properly  orga- 
nised. And  as  we  see  by  report  that,  despite  U-boats, 
ships  laden  with  useful  cargoes  are  constantly  arriving 
in  our  ports,  let  us  not  forget  the  possibility  of  "the 
creation  of  that  artificial  scarcity"  which  stirred  the 
blood  and  roused  the  devil  in  Russia ! 


OUR  FORTUNATE  "RESTRICTIONS" 

(Published  in  the  "Pali-Mall  Gazette") 

THE  Germans  are  reported  to  be  in  ecstasy  over  what 
they  call  the  "despairing  appeal"  of  the  Prime  Minis- 
ter's great  "restrictions"  speech.  But,  however  great 
their  "ecstasy"  may  be,  it  can  hardly  equal  ours !  For 
we  have  sufficient  sense  to  see  what  hope  and  strength 
for  our  Empire  springs,  like  a  bright  rainbow,  from 
what  the  Boche  obtusely  imagines  is  a  cloud.  Our 
"lead"  is  towards  increasing  prosperity  and  happiness 
for  all.  We  are  invited  to  look  forward  to  a  self- 
supporting  country ;  we  are  given  fresh  chances  of  bar- 
ring the  ungrateful  Teuton  from  our  trades  by  showing 
him  that  we  can  do  all  our  own  work  ourselves.  We  are 
promised  another  "Merrie  England"  of  the  spacious 
days  of  yore,  when  foreign  supplies  were  rare  and  costly, 
and  when  all  the  fields  were  thick  with  golden  grain 
and  all  the  orchards  glowed  with  many-coloured  fruits 
and  the  agricultural  popoulation  were  given  the  chance 
to  reap  what  they  had  sown. 

•  •••••• 

Now,  in  our  lovely  rural  villages  we  may  perhaps 
hope  to  see  the  last  of  many  frowsy,  idle  sluts  who  for 
years  have  preferred  to  gossip  away  their  time  rather 
than  do  any  useful  work;  and  in  their  stead  we  may 
look  for  healthy,  active  girls  and  women  who  are  proud 
of  their  dairies  and  poultry  farms,  and  glad  to  show 
interested  customers  the  great  bowls  of  milk,  the  churn- 
ing of  butter,  the  making  of  cheese,  and  all  the  endless 

248 


OUR  FORTUNATE  "RESTRICTIONS"    249 

charms  of  "country"  work  well  done.  If  the  submarine 
menace  teaches  us  to  produce  all  the  food  that  can  be 
produced  in  these  islands,  it  will  be  a  blessing  in  dis- 
guise, a  helper  and  saviour  of  the  grit,  stability,  and 
fine  reasonableness  of  the  British  race.  Talk  of  pota- 
toes !  There  are  many  hundred  of  acres  of  waste  land 
in  South  Cornwall  alone,  notably  wide,  treeless  fields 
running  into  sand  dunes  by  the  sea,  where  the  potato 
would  flourish  as  well  .as  it  does  in  similar  Dutch  soil, 
and  all  this  precious  land  is  empty  and  untilled.  To 
urge  the  digging  up  of  parks  and  public  recreation 
grounds,  where  it  is  doubtful  whether  potatoes  would 
grow  at  all,  when  there  is  all  this  acreage  available,  is 
sheer  nonsense.  I  would  that  I  had  even  a  hundred 
acres  of  that  Cornish  sandy  soil  by  the  sea  just  now. 
With  a  few  skilled  labourers  (for  one  must  know  how 
to  plant  potatoes)  it  should  yield  gold !  At  Newquay, 
by  the  way,  there  is  a  golfing  ground  reserved  for  the 
amusement  of  a  dozen  or  so  of  privileged  selfish  per- 
sons; it  would  grow  tons  of  potatoes  and  other  good 
edibles  with  very  little  trouble. 

•  »••••• 

Nothing  has  ever  been  a  greater  source  of  wonder 
to  me  than  the  improvidence  of  such  British  folk  as 
prefer  to  buy  their  vegetables  and  fruit  food  rather  than 
grow  it.  Nowhere  are  allotments  so  untidily  kept  or  so 
altogether  neglected  as  in  certain  parts  of  England ;  no- 
where is  so  little  grown  in  them.  Surely  it  stands  to 
sense  that  if  each  cottager  grew  his  own  vegetable  and 
fruit  food  there  would  be  less  need  for  foreign  supplies. 
And  if  every  waste  field  were  made  to  produce  some- 
thing in  the  way  of  foods  a  submarine  blockade  must 
needs  prove  futile  in  any  attempt  to  starve  the  popula- 


250  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

tion.  We  may,  if  we  will,  foresee  the  vision  of  a  happier, 
grander  Britain  than  ever,  when  the  people  of  these 
fruitful  islands  are  given  their  own,  and  no  longer  have 
need  to  sever  their  lives  from  the  homes  of  their  kindred 
because  there  is  no  work  for  them  here  owing  to  the 
intrusion  of  German  influence  and  German  labour.  We 
might  also  consider  with  belated  sorrow  the  depopula- 
tion of  the  Scottish  Highlands,  and  the  preservation  of 
vast  tracts  of  moor  and  forest  for  mere  "sport,"  which 
has  for  years  been  a  scandal  and  a  disgrace  to  the 
nation.  Let  us  have  the  people  back  on  the  land,  and 
let  the  deer  and  the  grouse  take  their  own  wild  chances 
of  existence.  The  submarine  menace  has  come  to  teach 
us  what  we  ought  to  have  learned  long  ago — namely, 
that  what  we  want  on  our  own  land  are  our  own  men, 
as  skilled  farmers  and  workers  in  every  useful  and 
profitable  department,  and  that  it  ought  never  to  be 
possible  to  see,  as  I  once  saw  posted  up  on  a  large 
factory  in  London  itself:  "No  English  Need  Apply." 

•  •••••• 

Look  at  the  thing  squarely.  With  each  householder, 
in  rural  districts  at  least,  growing  his  own  vegetable 
and  fruit  supply,  and  the  farmers  growing  for  the  com- 
munity in  general,  what  lack  should  there  be  of  the 
necessities  of  life  ?  The  Prime  Minister  has  restricted 
nothing  that  we  cannot  well  do  without.  Somebody  has 
grumbled  about  apples.  Where  will  you  beat  home- 
grown apples?  Plant  orchards  of  them  without  stint; 
they  will  repay  the  trouble.  Somebody  else  grumbles 
— yes,  we  know  somebody  always  grumbles !  This  time 
it  is  about  ^Paris  hats."  They  are  "forbidden."  O 
wise  judge !  O  learned  judge !  No  more  (for  a  time, 
at  least)  shall  we  be  pestered  by  receiving  elaborate 


OUE  FORTUNATE  "RESTRICTIONS"    251 

circulars  printed  in  gold  stating  that  Monsieur  Satanique 
"presents"  his  latest  "creations,"  as  if  the  good  Sata- 
nique were  a  sort  of  deity.  Nor  will  he,  with  all  hia 
persuasive  charm,  be  able  to  entice  the  foolish  among 
women  to  pay  him  six  or  eight  guineas  for  a  bit  of 
wire,  a  scrap  of  lace,  a  feather,  and  a  ribbon.  O  bold 
"restriction" !  No  more  "Paris  hats" — but,  let  us 
hope,  a  great  deal  more  common  sense ! 


"HIS  PAINFUL  DUTY" 

THE  SORROWS  OF  THE  HOME  SECRETARY 

(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mall  Gazette") 

WE  grieve  for  Sir  George  Cave.  He  suffers  as  a  martyr 
suffers  in  the  cause  of  his  country.  Martyrs  are  not  so 
common  as  heroes  nowadays,  but  Sir  George  puts  in  no 
claim  to  heroism.  He  leaves  that  to  "Tommy."  "Tom- 
my" makes  short  work  of  the  Huns  wherever  and  how- 
ever he  meets  them,  but  Sir  George  is  almost  on  the 
verge  of  tears  because  he  is  unable  to  make  their  stay 
on  in  this  country  as  agreeable  and  profitable  as  he 

would  wish. 

•    '•••••• 

In  the  House  of  Commons  he  said :  "Only  the  other 
day  it  was  his  painful  duty  to  order  the  internment  of 
sixteen  members  of  one  alien  club  alone !"  Alas,  alas ! 
"Sixteen"  out  of  twenty  thousand  wandering  spies ! 
"One  club  alone,"  out  of  hundreds  of  enemy  information 
centres !  Poor  Sir  George !  How  his  heart  must  have 
been  torn!  how  it  must,  even  now,  be  lacerated  and 
sore!  "Had  this  club  been  in  existence  during  the 
whole  war  ?"  asked  Sir  Henry  Dalziel  pointedly.  And 
surely  Sir  George  must  have  fetched  a  sigh  from  the 
bottom  of  his  soul  as  he  was  compelled  to  answer 
"Yes !"  Mr.  Herbert  Samuel,  the  late  Home  Secretary, 
was  also  apparently  in  sad  plight,  for  he  "seemed  very 
anxious  about  the  thousands  of  friendly  aliens"  in  the 

252 


"HIS  PAINFUL  DUTY"  253 

East  End  of  London  and  other  large  towns.  He  may 
well  be  "very  anxious."  For  these  "thousands  of 
friendly  aliens"  are  not  "friendly,"  and  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten  "show,"  as  Mr.  Samuel  gravely  observed, 

"that  their  hearts  are  not  with  this  country." 

•  •••••• 

Is  Mr.  Samuel  really  so  ingenuous,  so  simple,  so 
altogether  infantile  in  experience  as  to  suppose  their 
hearts  could  be  "with  this  country"  ?  Are  the  hearts 
of  Britishers  interned  in  Germany  "with"  Germany? 
The  Germans  have  turned  English  and  Americans  out 
of  Berlin;  why  is  not  the  same  course  pursued  by  us 
with  Germans  in  London  ?  Every  German  in  the  British 
Isles  hopes  for  their  "invasion"  by  his  countrymen,  and 
with  invasion  the  signal  to  mobilise.  With  30,000 
interned  and  20,000  at  liberty,  50,000  foes  are  in  our 
midst,  ready  to  turn  upon  us  at  short  notice.  Why 
should  this  matter  be  dealt  with  in  such  a  spineless, 
semi-paralytic  way?  What  are  the  British  public  to 
think  of  the  Ministers  who  put  them  on  "rations"  of 
four  pounds  of  bread  a  week,  while  the  German  prisoner 
is  allowed  ten  ?  Two  and  a  half  pounds  of  meat  to  the 
German's  three  and  a  half?  And  everything  on  the 
same  scale,  so  that,  summing  up  the  total,  the  honest 
British  worker  gets  seven  pounds  four  ounces  of  food 
to  his  enemy  prisoners'  fourteen  pounds  fourteen  ounces! 
Can  any  Controller  of  any  department  be  so  blind  as 
to  think  the  British  people  will  stand  such  injustice?' 
Many  of  us  know  all  about  Donnington  Hall,  though 
an  honest  attempt  to  clear  up  that  scandal  was  nipped 
in  the  bud  by  some  "Unseen  Hand."  But  what  of  the 
life  of  ease  led  by  the  German  prisoners  interned  in  the 
Isle  of  Man?  There,  in  the  great  internment  camp, 


254  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

officers  are  "at  home,"  and  are  permitted  to  buy  what- 
ever quantity  of  food  they  like  to  pay  for— food  which 
the  native  population  cannot  get!  Just  as  the  enemy 
officers  at  Donnington  Hall  can  order  all  they  like  "with- 
out restriction,"  while  British  prisoners  in  Germany 
are  given  hardly  enough  to  keep  them  from  starving! 

•  •••••• 

Sir  George  Cave,  in  his  extreme  solicitude  for  "enemy 
aliens,"  has  committed  himself  to  one  utterance  which 
he  may  live  to  regret.  It  is  this :  "Enemy  aliens  freed 
from  internment  ought  certainly  to  he  employed  on 
useful  work  of  national  importance." 

Ought  they,  indeed!  The  employment  of  enemy 
aliens  on  "work  of  national  importance"  would  he  little 
short  of  a  criminal  act.  For  human  nature  is  the  same 
as  it  ever  was,  and  no  "enemy  alien"  is  likely  to  do 
"work  of  national  importance"  for  his  jailer  or  con- 
queror without  at  least  trying  to  do  it  in  such  a  manner 
that  it  shall  never  be  done,  or  else  done  so  badly  that 
it  shall  not  serve  its  purpose.  What  sane  Englishman 
imagines  that  an  "enemy"  born  of  a  ruthless  race,  which 
has  proved  itself  murderous  and  treacherous,  will  serve 
him  in  "work  of  national  importance"  without  a  good 
effort  to  blow  him  and  his  "work"  to  the  four  winds  of 
heaven?  The  guileless  simplicity  of  Sir  George  Cave 
reminds  one  of  the  nursery's  "little  lamb": — 

"Whichever  way  the  German  went, 
The  Lamb  was  sure  to  go !" 

Down  in  the  country,  where  we  are  commanded,  with 
a  sort  of  megaphone  shouting  through  the  Press,  to 
"Grow  food,"  when  we  have  no  skilled  labour  to  grow 


"HIS  PAINFUL  DUTY"  255 

it,  we  are  told  that  we  can  employ  "enemy  prisoners"  on 
the  land.  A  friend,  anxious  to  get  waste  land  under 
cultivation,  asked  what  would  be  the  rate  of  pay.  The 
reply  was :  "One  guinea  a  week ;  fifteen  shillings  if  you 
feed  him."  Compare  this  with  the  pay  given  to  our 
British  prisoners  who  work  in  Germany — "one  penny  a 
day,"  i.e.,  sixpence  a  week!  My  friend  decided  to  put 
guineas  in  the  War  Loan  rather  than  spend  them  on  a 
German  prisoner  who,  if  he  worked  on  the  land,  would 
be  sure  to  work  "against  the  grain."  And  one  asks 
again:  Why  so  much  indulgence  and  care  for  the  men 
of  a  dishonourable  race  who  have  plunged  Europe  into 
blood  and  tears,  and  who  have  murdered  innocent 
women  and  children,  and  who,  far  from  repenting  their 
crimes,  add  to  them  the  awful  blasphemy  of  calling 
God  to  witness  their  "humanity"  ?  Surely  it  is  time 
this  weak  and  nerveless  inaction  on  the  part  of  the 
authorities  concerned  should  cease,  and  that  they  should, 
in  the  words  of  Shakespeare, — 

"Take  our  cause 
Out  of  the  gripes  of  cruel  men." 


THE   POTATO   "SCKEAM" 

A  PROTEST  AGAINST   A  STUPID   PANIC 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mall  Gazette") 

potatoes !  Dear,  dear ;  whatever  shall  we  do  ?  Some 
of  the  clever  boys  who  write  the  "purple  patches"  for 
the  sensational  Press  say  that  the  present  shortage  is 
"nothing  compared  to  the  grim  possibilities  of  the  near 
future."  "Grim  possibilities"  is  good — a  phrase  that 
will  delight  the  Huns !  But,  quite  dispassionately,  may 
it  not  be  asked  how  Britain  got  on  without  potatoes  in 
her  historic  past  ?  Henry  VIII.  was  a  goodly  King ;  he 
ate  greedily,  drank  heavily,  and  married  profusely,  but 
never  a  potato  adorned  his  groaning  banquet  board.  He 
"fared  sumptuously  every  day,"  and  his  subjects  were 
not  starved.  Strong  armies,  victorious  navies,  existed 
without  potatoes.  Crecy,  poitiers,  Agincourt  were 
fought  on  other  food.  People  lived  in  those  days  even 
more  hazardously  than  they  live  now,  and  did  not  worry 
about  "grim  possibilities."  They  grew  their  own  food 
produce,  and  had  no  chance  of  Overseas  supplies.  And 
they  never  knew  the  potato ! 

•  •••••• 

The  history  of  the  potato  is  quite  modern,  proving 
that  it  is  by  no  means  a  necessity  of  life.  According  to 
some  historians,  it  is  a  native  of  Chili  and  Peru,  and 
was  introduced  from  Santa  Fe,  in  America,  by  Sir  John 
Hawkins  in  1563 — one  year  before  the  birth  of  Shakes- 

256 


THE  POTATO  "SCKEAM"  257 

peare.  So,  as  it  was  a  new  product  and  uncommon,  it 
is  possible  that  the  Poet  of  the  World  struggled  up  to 
manhood  without  so  much  as  one  potato  scream !  The 
soliloquy  in  Hamlet  owes  nothing  to  the  potato — the 
famous  adjuration  in  Henry  V. : — 

"Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more; 
Or  close  the  walls  up  with  our  English  dead"' — • 

has  nothing  of  the  "mealy"-mouthed  about  it!  Other 
authorities  say  it  was  brought  over  by  Sir  Francis 
Drake  in  1586,  but  not  generally  introduced  till  1592, 
and  that  Sir  Walter  Kaleigh  cultivated  it  first  in  Ireland 
on  his  estates  in  the  county  of  Cork.  It  apparently 
was  not  known  in  Flanders  (according  to  its  biogra- 
phers) till  1620.  Well,  then,  how  on  earth  did  we  get 
on  without  it  ?  And  if  we  did  get  on  without  it,  why 
cannot  we  get  on  without  it  again?  I  imagine  that  it 
is  very  much  the  fault  of  our  gifted  melodramatic  actors 
on  the  stage  of  the  Press  that  we  are  startled  and 
"shivered"  by  the  thrilling  exits  and  entrances  of  the 
potato  at  stated  intervals.  One  Bathurst  is  responsible 
for  an  actual  "potato  boom,"  he  having  made  it  appear 
that  this  particular  edible  is  a  main  prop  of  existence, 
when  it  is  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  has  frightened  a 
number  of  unreasoning  women  into  "long  queues"  that 
"besiege"  the  potato  dealers.  If  these  women  would 
only  stay  at  home  and  decide  to  do  without  potatoes  at 
all,  the  "shortage"  and  the  dealers  would  soon  display 
an  altered  aspect !  One  does  not  like  to  be  rude  about 
any  portion  of  the  human  anatomy,  but  surely  people 
who  know  Ireland  have  heard  of  the  "potato  abdomen' 
v(the  actual  word  is  too  Scriptural  for  polite  usage). 


258  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

There  is  such  a  thing;  and  it  is  not  at  all  a  desirable 
ornament.  Women  who  wish  to  keep  graceful,  svelte 
figures  never  eat  potatoes.  In  all  dietetic  rules  for  the 
fat,  "grave"  warnings  are  uttered  against  potatoes,  and 
"grim  possibilities"  are  in  store  for  any  obstinately 

large  man  or  woman  who  continues  to  eat  them ! 
•  •••«•• 

Why  should  the  restless  Bathurst  seek  to  create  a  sort 
of  South  Sea  Bubble  in  potatoes  ?  The  frenzy  need  not 
spread,  if  reasonable  folk  will  collect  their  wits  (some 
of  which  have  gone  a  wool  gathering)  and  realise  that 
the  potato,  though  an  excellent  vegetable  when  properly 
cooked  (which  it  seldom  is)  is  not  a  necessity  of  life. 
If  it  were,  the  brilliant  history  of  Britain  from  the 
beginning  up  to  Tudor  times  would  be  a  mere  record 
of  famines.  Pessimist  jBathurst  "gravely"  states  that 
"there  will  be  no  potatoes  for  any  one  in  about  six 
weeks."  Well,  all  who  have  vegetable  gardens  know 
that  there  is  always  a  scarcity  of  potatoes  every  year, 
when  the  old  ones  are  practically  finished  and  we  are 
waiting  for  the  new;  and  owing  to  the  general  "sensa- 
tionalism" the  scarcity  this  year  is  likely  to  be  more 
pronounced.  But  it  need  not  disturb  any  one's  equa- 
nimity. Potatoes  are  no  more  necessary  to  life  and 
health  than  the  "hot  roll,"  of  which  the  following 
amazing  report  appears  in  the  Press:  "The  passing  of 
the  hot  roll  is  the  chief  sacrifice."  (Think  of  these 
noble  words !  "The  chief  sacrifice !"  One  would  imag- 
ine it  was  the  life  of  a  hero !)  "Tens  of  thousands  of 
people  will  lament  the  loss  of  a  breakfast  luxury!" 
"Lament  the  loss?"  Oh,  oh!  Tens  of  thousands  of 
people  lamenting  a  hot  breakfast  roll !  Ye  Gods !  "A 
roll,"  continued  the  Press-interviewed  baker,  "alters  its 


THE  POTATO  "SCKEAM"  259 

character  when  stale."  True,  deplorably  true !  But  if 
those  tens  of  thousands  of  lamenting  people  do  not  alter 
their  character  and  "lament"  to  better  purpose  than  for 
the  daily  indigestion  provided  for  them  in  "hot  roll"  at 
breakfast,  it  is  time  they  felt  the  pinch,  not  only  of  "no 
potatoes,"  but  "no  food"  at  all  for  a  wholesome  period 
of  fasting,  with  shame  and  penitence ! 


"HISTORY  REPEATS  ITSELF7 

A  STUDY  IN  WAS  BKEAD 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mall  Gazette") 

COMPLAINTS  are  rife  and  bitter  concerning  the  tough, 
indigestible,  and  injurious  mixture  permitted  to  the 
taxpaying  public  as  "war  bread."  General  condemna- 
tion of  Government  flour  has  been  expressed  at  a  meet- 
ing of  the  London  Master  Bakers'  Protection  Society, 
where  a  resolution  was  passed  asking  for  an  interview 
with  the  Prime  Minister  to  point  out  the  "ineptitude" 
of  the  Ministry  of  Food.  Thousands  of  us  are  of  the 
same  mind  with  the  Master  Bakers !  Thousands  of  us 
affirm  the  "ineptitude"  of  which  they  speak.  Thousands 
of  us  know  that  a  more  lamentable  display  of  ignorance 
concerning  the  "things  that  matter"  could  hardly  be 
seen  between  now  and  the  next  world.  Furthermore, 
the  Master  Bakers  (God  bless  them!)  have  actually 
declared  that  if  the  Bread  Order  is  not  revoked  or 
amended  they,  to  safeguard  the  health  of  consumers, 
will  be  compelled  to  take  "drastic  action."  Well  done, 
Master  Bakers!  The  sooner  this  drastic  action  is 
effected  the  better  for  many  ailing,  suffering  human 
creatures.  The  faddists  and  health  specialists  may  talk 
as  they  will,  nothing  can  satisfy  the  appetite  or  suit 
the  palate  of  the  average  man  and  woman  so  well  and 
so  safely  as  bread  made  with  pure  white  flour.  The  raw 
germ  of  wheat,  though  in  a  sense  nutritious,  exercises 

260 


"HISTORY  REPEATS  ITSELF"         261 

a  "very  deleterious  effect,"  so  say  the  bakers,  on  the 
colour  and  keeping  qualities  of  the  loaf.  In  many  cases 
"war  bread"  causes  internal  haemorrhage,  to  say  nothing 
of  fermentative  dyspepsia  and  severe  inflammation  of 
the  delicate  coating  of  one's  interior  mechanism,  and  it 
would  be  easy  to  compile  a  volume  of  statistics  proving 
the  poisonous  effect  produced  by  this  coarse  stuff  on  our 
soldiers  in  hospital  who  are  slowly  recovering  from 
gunshot  wounds  or  shell  shock,  and  who  are  peculiarly 
sensitive  to  the  quality  of  their  food.  The  distinguished 
muddlers  who  are  muddling  with  the  grain  and  the 
"milling"  thereof,  seem  to  judge  the  fine  and  complex 
human  organism  as  somewhat  tougher  than  shoe-leather 
and  less  liable  to  injury  than  pig-iron.  (But  they  are 
not  the  first  of  their  class  by  any  means!  There  were 
muddlers  before  them,  as  senseless,  as  callous,  and  as 
deaf  to  reason  as  they — men  who,  like  themselves,  were 
"dressed  in  a  little  brief  authority"  during  that  terrific 
upheaval  of  which  the  very  name  is  ominous — the  great 
French  Revolution.  Here  is  what  Carlyle  writes  of  the 
bread  trouble  in  those  days: — 

"Complaints  there  are  that  the  food  is  spoiled  and 
produces  an  effect  on  the  intestines,  as  well  as  'a  smart- 
ing in  the  thoat  and  palate/  which  a  municipal  procla- 
mation warns  you  to  disregard  or  even  to  consider  as 
drastic — beneficial!  But  .  .  .  the  Mayor  of  Saint 
Denis,  so  black  was  his  bread,  has,  by  a  dyspeptic 
populace,  been  hanged  on  'La  Lanterne'  there!" 

"La  Lanterne"  is  not  a  pleasant  theme  to  dwell  upon, 
and  we  may  be  deeply  thankful  that  we  have  something 
nowadays  less  ferocious  than  such  a  form  of  settling 
disputes  between  the  people  and  their  rulers — the  great 
trade  unions  and  protection  societies,  consolidated  bodies 


262  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

of  reasoning  and  reasonable  men,  who  can,  when  neces- 
sity calls,  take  concerted  action  against  Sentimental 
Cant  and  wilful  Ignorance.  For,  to  quote  Carlyle 
again,  "Is  not  Cant  the  materia,  prima  of  the  Devil, 
from  which  all  falsehoods,  imbecilities,  and  abnomina- 
tions  body  themselves,  from  which  no  true  thing  can 
come  ?"  And  are  not  the  Master  Bakers,  as  well  as  the 
Seamen's  and  Firemen's  Union,  conscious  of  this  Cant 
somewhere?  Whether  in  pacifism  or  food-controlling, 
matters  little,  so  long  as  they  can  put  an  exterminating 
finger  on  the  spot ! 

Ours  is  a  land  of  cranks;  we  produce  cranks  aa 
quickly  as  untended  grass  grows  plantains.  We  have 
peace  cranks,  food  cranks,  health  cranks;  and,  without 
doubt,  plenty  of  these  will  dash  wildly  into  the  open 
with  hysterical  hymns  of  praise  for  the  utterly  detesta- 
ble "war  bread,"  more  vigorously  possibly  when  they 
think  their  fellow-creatures  are  being  made  ill  by  it. 
But  "let  'em  gnash  as  can,"  as  the  toothless  old  dame 
blandly  observed  after  hearing  a  sermon  on  hell  where 
"there  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth."  Happily 
deprived  of  all  ability  to  "gnash,"  hell  offered  no  alarms 
for  her.  Similarly,  those  whose  powers  of  digestion 
cannot  tolerate  "war  bread"  will  support  the  screams 
of  whole-meal  faddists  with  equanimity,  saying,  "Let 
'em  masticate  as  can."  If  "whole-meal"  gives  strength 
and  sustenance  with  haemorrhage,  most  of  us  will  prefer 
to  be  a  little  less  strong  and  well-nourished,  without 
internal  bleedings.  The  complaints  of  the  bread  sold 
in  Paris  during  the  fateful  months  preceding  the  French 
Revolution  are  precisely  the  same  as  now;  but,  what- 
ever the  rising  tide  of  discontent  may  be,  we  have 
bulwarks  against  it  in  our  own  people's  organisations, 


•      "HISTOKY  REPEATS  ITSELF"         263 

•which  bind  the  members  of  every  trade  together  against 
any  possible  injustice  or  tyranny.  This  Empire  has 
cause  to  be  thankful  for  its  vast  network  of  trade 
unions ;  they  are  in  very  truth  a  governing  body  whose 
weight  and  importance  cannot  be  over-estimated.  And 
so  it  may  be  that  the  Master  Bakers  will  be  the  saviours 
of  the  country's  health,  despite  Food  Controllers  and 
their  ideas  of  "milling."  We  are  losing  enough  life, 
Heaven  knows,  on  the  fields  of  battle ;  we  do  not  want 
illness  and  the  spread  of  disease  at  home.  We  can  be 
sparing  and  careful  of  grain  and  precious  with  our 
"white  flour,"  but  we  need  not  debilitate  or  poison  our 
people  with  food  which  they  cannot  digest  or  which 
in  any  way  proves  injurious  to  women  and  children. 
Waste  is  encouraged  by  the  making  of  bread  which 
the  people  dislike.  They  would  rather  throw  it  away 
than  suffer  illness — which  is  very  natural.  The  Food 
Controller  is  safe  from  "La  Lanterne"  in  these  days; 
but  everybody  will  be  glad  if  the  London  Master 
Bakers'  Society  will  take  the  matter  well  in  hand  and 
see  to  it  that  we  need  not  "live  on  the  husks  which  the 
swine  did  eat."  The  country  will  not  starve  because 
we  prefer  to  be  well  on  white  flour  rather  than  dyspeptic 
on  brown ! 


"SHODDY  CHIVALRY" 

A   NAVAL   CHADBAND 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mail  Gazette") 

So  now  we  know!  No  longer  need  we  denounce  the 
"submarine  menace" ;  no  longer  need  we  (as  the  Ger- 
man Press  suggests)  "grow  pallid  with  fear,"  for  we 
are  in  "brave  and  gallant  hands!"  "Brave  and  gal- 
lant" are  the  noble  creatures  who  sink  hospital  ships; 
"brave  and  gallant"  are  the  sharers  of  dividends  in  the 
corpse-fat  factory;  "brave  and  gallant"  are  the  raiders 
who  sought  to  intercept  the  Prime  Minister  on  his  way 
back  from  France  across  Channel  in  order  to  make 
short  work  of  him  and  his  escort — "brave  and  gallant" 
are  they  all !  Our  own  Vice-Admiral  at  Dover  implied 
as  much  when,  with  all  the  unctuousness  of  Dickens's 
immortal  Mr.  Chadband,  he  laid  a  wreath  of  flowers  on 
the  coffin  of  one  of  the  Hun  raiders  with  the  inscrip- 
tion: "To  a  brave  and  gallant  enemy!"  He  spared  no 
wreath  and  offered  no  tribute  to  any  of  the  dead  among 
our  own  bluejackets,  whose  "brave  and  gallant"  conduct 
had  succeeded  in  beating  off  and  sinking  the  enemy's 
ships;  they  were  "only"  British  sailors.  But  for  the 
dead  Huns,  this  British  Vice-Admiral  publicly  dis- 
played the  tenderness  of  a  twin  brother.  One  wonders 
what  Nelson  would  have  said  to  such  an  action  ?  How 
does  it  accord  with  the  Defence  of  the  Realm?  One 
can  imagine  the  noble  dust  of  the  victor  of  Trafalgar 

264 


"SHODDY  CHIVALRY"  265 

stirring  for  very  shame  at  such  a  lack  of  dignity  at 
the  very  time  when  British  ships  are  being  wickedly 
sunk  and  British  lives  wickedly  lost  by  the  nefarious 
"brave  and  gallant"  brutality  of  an  enemy  with  whom 
honour  is  a  mere  straw.  It  may  perhaps  be  easier  now 
to  understand  the  rumours  that  these  "brave  and  gal- 
lant" Huns  are  allowed  to  work  with  our  men  in  British 
docks,  where  they  watch  our  ships  loaded  with  millions 
of  munitions,  and  count  up  our  troops  leaving  for  the 
front,  and  then,  without  doubt,  communicate  with  their 
kinsmen  of  the  submarines,  letting  them  know  the 
hour  and  moment  of  departure!  No  wonder  that  our 
ships  are  sunk!  Such  methods  prepare  the  way  for 
their  sinking.  ~No  action  is  taken  by  the  authorities  to 
put  a  stop  to  the  inroad  of  German  labour  in  the  docks 
alongside  of  the  British — a  state  of  things  which,  on 
the  face  of  it,  invites  and  encourages  spying  and  treach- 
ery. Such  scandals  are  "an  offence  that's  rank,  And 
smells  to  Heaven" ;  and  the  powers  in  office  who  allow 
them  to  go  on  without  check  are  nearly  as  guilty  of  the 
loss  of  torpedoed  ships  and  lives  as  the  Huns  themselves. 
And  when  a  British  Vice-Admiral  sets  the  hall-mark 
of  "brave  and  gallant"  on  even  a  dead  specimen  of  the 
most  treacherous,  inhuman,  and  barbaric  foe  his  coun- 
try has  ever  had  to  contend  with,  we  can  hardly  wonder 
at  anything  except  the  amazing  excess  of  patience,  well- 
nigh  lethargy,  with  which  the  British  people  tolerate 
such  an  exhibition  of  Chadbandism  in  the  Navy.  One 
is  thankful  for  the  plain  speaking  of  Admiral  Lord 
Charles  Beresford,  who,  in  the  House  of  Lords,  desig- 
nated this  action  as  one  of  "maudlin  sentimentality  and 
shoddy  chivalry."  There  spoke  the  sturdy  seaman  and 


266  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

loyal  Britisher,  untainted  by  the  pro-German  measles, 
which  infect  only  the  degenerates  of  our  race.  The 
Vice-Admiral  at  Dover,  by  his  openly  displayed  admira- 
tion for  the  Hun,  would  seem  to  wish  us  to  understand 
that  he  is  something  neither  British  nor  of  the  sea — 
"neither  fish,  flesh,  fowl,  nor  good  red  herring."  We 
can  almost  hear  him  soliloquising  over  the  flower- 
strewn  coffin  of  the  "brave  and  gallant"  Hun:  "Myt 
friend,  you  are  to  me  a  pearl,  you  are  to  me  a  diamond, 
you  are  to  me  a  gem,  you  are  to  me  a  jewel !  And  why, 
my  friend?  Are  you  a  beast  of  the  field?  No.  A 
bird  of  the  air  ?  No.  A  fish  of  the  sea  or  river  ?  No. 
You  are  a  Hun,  my  friend!  You  are  much  worse 
than  any  beast  of  the  field;  more  voracious  than  any 
bird  of  the  air ;  more  slippery  than  any  fish  of  the  sea 
or  river!  Oh,  how  glorious  to  be  a  Hun!  And  if  I 
went  forth  as  far  as  the  Southampton  Docks  and  there 
saw  a  'brave  and  gallant'  fellow-countryman  of  yours 
taking  stock  of  troops  and  munitions,  and  I  was  to 
come  back  and  call  unto  me  Sir  Edward  Carson  and  say 
unto  him,  To  the  docks  are  barred  against  Huns,'  would 
that  be  terewth  ?" 

No ;  it  would  not  be  "terewth" — unless,  as  the  orig- 
inal Chadband  propounded,  such  terewth,  or  truth, 
were  another  form  of  deception.  Until  we  have  loyal 
men  "above  suspicion"  in  authority  at  home  we  shall 
never  satisfy  our  Allies  abroad.  America  will  be  un- 
able to  understand  a  (British  Vice-Admiral  laying  flow- 
ers on  the  coffin  of  an  enemy  whose  intent  was,  without 
doubt,  to  sink  and  slay  a  valuable  life  on  which  much 
of  Britain's  welfare  depends,  any  more  than  she  will 
understand  the  collection  of  a  large  sum  of  money  for 


"SHODDY  CHIVALRY"  267 

the  assistance  of  Germans  in  England  (more  than 
£17,000)  to  which  liberal  subscriptions  have  been 
made  by  two  German  members  of  the  Privy  Council. 
As  Mark  Twain  observed  during  his  tour  in  Palestine, 
"Blessed  if  I  believe  a  turtle  can  sing  1" 


"HINDENBUKG'S  EYE!" 

THE  BABIES'  BOGEY 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mall  Gazette") 

THERE  are  several  objections  raised  to  the  merry-go- 
round  "National  Service"  whirl  devised  by  Mr.  Neville 
Chamberlain.  "Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a 
crown"  nowadays,  even  if  it  only  be  the  crown  of  a 
temporary  Director  of  Service  or  of  Food  Production. 
Even  Lord  Devonport  comes  in  for  his  share  of  con- 
tumely, especially  since  he  assumed  that  a  5-oz.  chop 
was  sufficient  for  a  busy  City  man's  luncheon.  Lord 
Devonport  has  evidently  never  tried  his  hand  at  cook- 
ing, and  is  blissfully  unaware  how  soon  5  oz.  may  be 
reduced  to  3  oz.  on  the  fiery  grill !  The  public  resent 
this  ignorance;  but  nothing  excites  their  indignation 
more  than  the  blatant,  vulgar,  and  positively  offensive 
advertisements  which  have  been  spread  broadcast  to 
call  them  forth  to  voluntary  enrolment.  Whoever  it 
may  be  that  is  the  inventor,  designer,  or  word-weaver 
of  these  newspaper  roarers,  he  serves  his  country  ill, 
and  is  guilty  of  the  worst  possible  taste.  Instead  of  a 
dignified,  effective  appeal  to  Labour,  these  wretched 
advertisements  are  mere  gibes  and  insults  flung  in  the 
face  of  a  brave,  patiently  enduring  people,  whose  homes 
have,  in  many  thousands  of  cases,  been  invaded  by 
Death,  and  whose  hearts  are  wrung  by  sudden  and 

268 


"HINDENBURG'S  EYE!"  269 

bitter  bereavements,  none  the  less  hard  to  bear  because 
borne  with  such  noble  and  uncomplaining  fortitude. 

"Are  You  Fiddling  While  Rome  Burns  ?"  asks  one  of 
these  idiotic  newspaper  Fat  Letters,  a  question  met 
with  the  silent  scorn  of  many  tired  eyes  grown  dim 
with  weeping,  or  strained  and  anxious  with  watching 
and  waiting  for  the  beloved  ones  who  may  never  return. 
Is  it  impossible  to  expect  from  these  Government  Press 
agents  (if  they  are  Government  Press  agents)  a  little 
thought  for  the  people  they  seek  to  attract,  a  little 
decency  and  respect  ?  At  present  their  loud,  even  coarse, 
advertisements  represent — 

"The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes." 

The  last  form  of  their  coster-like  shouting  is  perhaps 
the  worst. 

"HINDENBUKG'S  EYE  is  UPON  YOU!" 

Now,  what  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  British,  do  we 
care  about  "Hindenburg's  Eye"  ?  Are  we  a  whimpering 
troop  of  babies  to  be  frighted  with  the  eye  of  a  Hun? 
or  to  be  told  "Hush-oh !  Mind  its  little  P's  and  Q's ! 
Go  and  do  its  little  National  Service  properly,  or 
'Hindenburg's  eye'  will  be  on  you!"  Was  ever  such 
arrant,  open,  disgraceful  nonsense!  What  have  we  to 
do  with  "Hindenburg's  eye,"  except  bomb  it  out  if  we 
can?  What  terrors  can  it  have  for  us?  Does  it  roll 
or  squint,  blink  or  wink?  Nobody  cares,  but  if  it  is 
to  be  "on"  anywhere,  it  had  better  be  fixed  to  Berlin! 
It's  an  old  eye  and  a  filmy  one — probably,  as  Hamlet 
pointedly  remarked,  "purging  thick  amber  and  plum- 


270  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

tree  gum" — it's  a  false  eye  and  a  "brutal  one,  but  just 
now  it  has  enough  to  do  to  see  its  own  surroundings 
without  dropping  out  of  its  socket.  The  tactless,  wit- 
less individual  who  dares  to  write  and  circulate  would-be 
"scare"  lines  about  this  bloodthirsty  old  eye  being  "on" 
the  brave  men  and  women  of  Britain,  watching  (as  if 
such  a  brute  had  authority  to  watch!)  to  see  how  many 
of  them  work  (and  weep!)  willingly  enough  in  their 
country's  service,  should  be  at  once  convinced  of  his 
unfortunate  lack  of  intelligence  and  discernment.  Any 
one  with  the  smallest  spark  of  imagination  must  almost 
see  and  hear  the  loud  German  guffaw  of  mockery  and 
delight  at  this  fool's  placard  for  the  British : — 

"HINDENBTJBG  HAS  HIS  EYE  TJPOTT  YOU!" 

"Ha,  ha !  Dot  is  goot !"  says  Hans  to  Fritz.  "Unser 
Hindenburg!  Dot  is  fright  for  Gott  strafe  England! 
— and  de  English  demselves  say  it !" 

Weird  inventor  of  megaphone  press-roarings,  who- 
ever you  are,  don't  do  it !  You  may  be  a  Bernard  Shaw 
in  the  bud  for  all  we  know,  but  we  have  enough  already 
of  the  perfect  flower.  National  Service  demands  your 
brilliancy  elsewhere.  Offer  yourself  as  a  substitute  for 
the  bootblack  who  may  be  glad  to  go  "on  the  land." 
The  Cause  is  injured  by  these  unwarrantable  music-hall 
methods.  Call  up  the  people  with  a  friend's  cheerful 
and  inspiring  voice — a  silver  trumpet-blast  if  you  will — 
but  not  with  a  donkey's  bray ! 

(The  above  little  article  had  the  fortunate  effect  of 
causing  several  of  these  placards,  so  offensive  to  the 
British  spirit,  to  be  removed.) 


"HOARDING" 

A  MODEBN  SETTING  OF  AN  OLD  PLAY  AND  A  LITTLE  STORY 
OF  THE  Y.M.C.A. 

"Man,  proud  man, 
Dress'd  in  a  little  brief  authority, 
Most  ignorant  of  what  he's  most  assured, 
His  ghostly  essence  like  an  angry  ape, 
Plays  such  fantas>tio  tricks  before  high  heaven 
As  make  the  angels  weep  I" 

Measure  for  Measure. 

NOTHING  in  all  the  various  confused  and  contradictory 
orders  issued  by  the  capricious  and  neurotic  "Dora" 
gave  such  unalloyed  festive  delight  as  the  edict  against 
"hoarding."  It  opened  the  door  to  all  the  little  spies 
and  scandal-mongers  of  every  neighbourhood,  especially 
to  the  provincial  types  of  these  gentry,  who  are  always 
of  a  more  inquisitive  and  slanderous  disposition  than 
the  same  class  found  in  large  cities,  for  the  reason  that 
they  have  little  other  excitement  beyond  the  gratifying 
stimulus  of  inquiring  into  their  neighbours'  affairs  and 
meddling  with  them  if  they  can.  The  "Hoarding" 
order  suited  them  down  to  the  ground  and  set  them 
all  on  the  alert,  peering  into  windows  and  peeping 
through  open  doors — following  their  "dear  friends" 
into  shops  and  taking  eager  notes  of  their  purchases, 
till  every  eye  grew  hard  and  sharp  as  a  gimlet,  and 
every  nose  as  pointed  as  the  beak  of  a  crow.  It  was 
astonishing  and  amusing  to  watch  the  alteration  for 
the  worse  in  the  looks  of  men  and  women  during  this 

271 


272  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

period;  the  theory  of  "psycho-suggestion"  was  amply 
verified  in  the  visible  fact  that  people  who  were  pre- 
viously open-faced  and  good-natured  were  almost 
unrecognisable  in  the  sudden  "squeezing-in"  of  their 
features  to  the  ugly  furrows  of  suspicion  and  meanness. 
"Some  achieve  greatness  and  some  have  greatness 
thrust  upon  them,"  says  the  sapient  Malvolio;  and  I 
frankly  admit  that  I  felt  myself  to  be  entirely  in  the 
latter  category  when  I  became  a  sort  of  modern  heroine 
in  a  new  version  of  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  in  the 
precincts  of  Stratford-on-Avon  itself,  under  the  sacred 
aegis  of  the  Immortal  Bard.  A  real  stage  was  set  for 
me,  with  the  real  "city  officers  Dogberry  and  Verges" 
— in  fact  "the  whole  dissembly  appeared."  I  was  sum- 
moned for  "hoarding"  sugar.  In  plain  truth  I  have 
never  "hoarded"  anything — not  even  money,  as  the 
town  of  Stratford-on-Avon  has  sufficient  reason  to  know. 
I  have  never  even  had  the  careful  housekeeper's  habit 
of  a  "store-cupboard" — my  house  being  destitute  of 
such  lock-up  conveniences,  wherefore  we  have  found  it 
best  always  to  order  what  is  wanted  from  week  to  week, 
paying  for  it  likewise  from  week  to  week  and  incurring 
no  debts.  In  the  affair  of  the  sugar  I  could  not  pro- 
cure enough  to  obey  the  commands  set  upon  me  by  the 
Food  Production  and  other  Government  Departments. 
Correspondence  with  Mr.  Prothero  had  impressed  upon 
me  that  there  was  a  shortage  of  all  foodstuffs,  especially 
butter,  and  it  was  represented  to  me  that  every  house- 
holder growing  their  own  fruit  should  make  as  much 
jam  as  possible  to  replace  the  butter.  That  year  (1917) 
was  a  wonderful  fruit  year ;  in  my  own  garden,  not  an 
"orchard"  by  any  means  or  abundantly  stocked,  there 
was  gathered  nearly  a  thousand  pounds  dead-weight  of 


"HOAKDING"  273 

fruit.  Some  of  it  we  sold — much  of  it  we  gave  away — 
the  rest  had  either  to  be  wasted  or  preserved.  "Short- 
age of  foodstuffs"  necessitated  its  preservation.  Our 
local  surveyor,  though  obliging,  could  not  supply  his 
customers  with  enough  sugar  to  go  round.  The  "Hoard- 
ing Act"  distinctly  stated  that  the  order  did  not  apply 
itself  to  "sugar  obtained  for  the  preservation  of  home- 
grown produce" — so  I  appealed  to  my  old  friend,  Sir 
Thomas  Lipton,  not  only  because  he  was  a  friend,  but 
because  he  was  a  grocer,  and  as  such,  would  be  sure 
to  know  what  quantity  of  sugar  he  might  or  might  not 
sell  to  any  customer.  But !  Here  comes  in  an- 
other story ! 

A  short  time  previous  to  the  Sugar-Comedy  of 
"Much  Ado,"  I  had  been  approached  by  two  gentle- 
men from  Birmingham  on  behalf  of  the  Y.M.C.A.  and 
Sir  Arthur  Yapp  (then  Director  of  Food  Economy)  to 
help  the  Society  by  a  subscription.  I  gave  a  hundred 
pounds;  and  a  generous  friend  of  mine,  on  hearing 
what  I  had  subscribed,  gave  another  hundred.  In  the 
warmth  of  this  success  I  wrote  to  Sir  Thomas  Lipton 
and  asked  him  boldly  for  another  hundred.  I  received 
a  truly  heart-rending  reply  to  the  effect  that  he  was  a 
"poor  man,"  and  "could  not  afford  so  large  a  sum," 
but  that  if  I  had  asked  him  for  ten  or  fifteen  pounds 
he  would  have  gladly  subscribed.  I  at  once  seized  the 
opportunity  and  begged  him  to  send  the  fifteen.  He  did 
so,  and  I  wrote  my  acknowledgments,  assuring  him  that 
when  he  went  to  heaven  that  Fifteen  Pounds  given  to 
the  Y.M.C.A.  would  be  an  extra  feather  in  his  Angel- 
Wing!  (I  do  hope  he  will  one  day  show  that  letter 
to  Sir  Arthur  Yapp ! )  Then,  feeling  I  had  not  yet 
done  enough  for  the  Y.M.C.A.  Huts,  I  agreed  that  the 


2Y4  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Cinema  company,  then  running  some  stories  of  mine 
on  the  "film,"  should  give  a  few  "shows"  of  them  in 
Stratford  for  the  sole  benefit  of  the  Y.M.C.A.,  and 
I  am  glad  to  say  that  they  drew  packed  houses  and 
brought  a  substantial  result.  For  this  and  such  assis- 
tance as  I  had  freely  given  to  help  on  the  good  cause  I 
had  a  note  from  Sir  Arthur  Yapp  expressing  his  "most 
grateful  thanks."  And  now  we  can  revenons  a  nos 
moutons — that  is  to  say,  I  can  return  to  the  Sugar 
version  of  "Much  Ado" — but  I  would  earnestly  request 
my  readers  to  "mark,  learn,  and  inwardly  digest"  what 
we  may  call  "The  Y.M.C.A.-Yapp  Interlude." 

As  I  have  already  stated,  I  could  not  get  sufficient 
sugar  from  the  local  grocer  to  preserve  the  fruit  in 
hand,  and  as  fruit  is  perishable,  and  there  was  no  time 
to  be  lost,  I  rang  up  Sir  Thomas  Lipton  on  the  tele- 
phone and  asked  him  what  he  could  do  for  me.  The 
familiar  "Glasgie"  accent  came  harmoniously  along  the 
wire — "Ye'll  never  want  for  sugar  so  long  as  Tom 
Lipton's  on  the  'phone!" 

So  it  was  settled.  I  and  my  friend  (a  lady  who  has 
been  my  companion  throughout  my  life  since  my  child- 
hood, and  who  has  generously  and  kindly  undertaken 
all  my  household  cares)  set  happily  to  work  to  preserve 
our  fruit ;  whole  in  jars  where  we  could  do  so,  but  made 
into  jam  for  the  most  part.  I  would  here  remark,  with 
all  diffidence,  that  I  do  not  revel  in  jam  myself;  but 
I  like  having  it  for  others — such  as  schoolboys,  for 
instance,  before  whom  whole  pots  vanish  like  snow  in 
the  sun  when  they  come  to  tea  with  me,  bless  their  frank 
appetites!  We  had  nearly  completed  our  labours,  all 
except  the  transmutation  of  apples  into  jelly  and  "apple 
cheese"  (the  best  possible  substitute  for  butter),  when 


"HOARDING"  275 

one  afternoon,  while  I  was  out,  a  police  constable  called 
and  said  he  must  search  the  house  for  "hoards."  He 
brought  no  authority,  but  stated  that  if  he  were  re- 
fused he  would  procure  a  search  warrant.  My  friend, 
who  received  the  intruder,  was  naturally  rather  sur- 
prised, but  having  nothing  to  hide  she  cordially  invited 
the  official  to  go  all  over  the  house  wherever  he  would. 
Accordingly  he  tramped  into  the  dining-room,  opened 
cupboards  and  drawers,  even  peering  into  an  unobtrusive 
little  tea-caddy,  and  went  down  into  the  cellar  and  in- 
spected the  larder.  He  found  nothing  but  a  large  flour- 
bin,  into  which  for  convenience  had  been  put  fifteen 
pounds  of  sugar  (duly  weighed)  left  for  use  with  the 
apples  yet  to  be  preserved.  While  he  was  still  on  the 
prowl,  I  returned  home,  and  though  I  am  never  much 
taken  aback  at  anything  Stratford-on-Avon  "authori- 
ties" do,  I  was,  I  think,  justifiably  annoyed  at  having 
my  private  rooms  searched  on  such  a  ridiculous  charge 
of  which  I  was  absolutely  guiltless.  Moreover,  the 
"hofficer"  who  had  thus  broken  into  my  house  without 
warning,  was  a  man  who  had  often  had  supper  in  our 
kitchen  with  beer  galore,  which  he  had  greatly  relished 
— while  another  detail  of  the  matter  was  that  for  some 
years,  since  the  intrusion  of  an  unhappy  lunatic-tramp 
into  my  garden,  the  police  had  been  given  by  myself  a 
private  key  to  the  premises,  so  that  they  could  enter  at 
any  time.  Therefore,  if  they  had  sought  to  keep  me 
under  "observation"  there  was  nothing  to  hinder  their 
surveillance,  which  indeed  I  had  personally  requested 
and  was  grateful  for.  But — as  the  official  informed  me 
the  "hoarding"  accusation  came  "from  London" — "on 
account  of  Sir  Thomas  Lipton."  This  rather  amazed 


276  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

me,  and  for  a  moment  I  thought  it  must  be  that  "feather 
in  the  Angel-Wing" !  My  doubts  were  soon  set  at  rest 
by  a  visit  from  my  solicitor  who  told  me  Sir  Thomas 
was  "much  distressed  and  could  not  sleep"  for  thinking 
about  the  threatened  trouble.  Some  one  at  certain 
Stratford-on-Avon  Stores  had  noted  the  arrival  at  the 
railway  station  of  the  Lipton  supplies  of  sugar — quite 
openly  sent,  and  openly  marked  "Sugar,"  for  we  were 
under  the  impression  that  all  was  in  due  observance 
of  the  Food  Production  rules,  and  that  there  was  noth- 
ing to  hide  or  to  "hoard."  Naturally  I  wrote  at  once 
to  the  Lipton  office  requesting  these  supplies  to  be 
stopped,  without,  however,  at  once  succeeding,  as,  not- 
withstanding my  expressed  desire,  a  fresh  package  was 
transmitted,  which  I  promptly  returned.  I  then  wrote 
to  Sir  Arthur  Yapp,  feeling  quite  sure  that  his  recent 
experience  of  my  conduct  in  respect  to  the  Y.M.C.A. 
would  convince  him  that  there  was  some  "official  blun- 
dering" (to  quote  a  press  term)  in  the  absurd  notion 
that  I,  whose  work  throughout  the  war  had  been  to  help, 
not  to  hinder  all  patriotic  aims,  could  possibly  sink  to 
the  "hoarding"  level.  I  had  written  to  him  long  before, 
pleading  that  the  poor  working  women  should  not  be 
compelled  to  stand  in  "queues,"  waiting  to  get  food  for 
themselves  and  their  children,  on  which  subject  he  wrote 
me  the  following  letter : — 

"December  17,  1917. 

"DEAE  Miss  CORELLI, — Thank  you  very  much  indeed 
for  your  further  letter  and  enclosure,  and  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  arrange  for  the  workers  to  get  things  for  their 
children.  All  the  points  you  mention  shall  receive 


"HOARDING"  277 

careful  attention  and  I  am  consulting  some  of  my  col- 
leagues forthwith.     Again  thanking  you, 
"Yours  faithfully, 

"A.  K  YAPP, 
"Director  of  Food  Economy" 

This  does  not  look  as  if  I  had  sought  to  "rob  the  poor 
by  hoarding,"  as  one  accuser  in  the  "gutter"  press  made 
out  later  on!  When  I  wrote,  explaining  the  position 
which  had  so  wrongfully  arisen,  Sir  Arthur  wrote  re- 
gretting it  and  saying:  "I  will  make  all  inquiries  and 
am  more  than  sorry  you  should  be  worried." 

However,  the  "case"  instigated  "from  London,"  went 
on  remorselessly  and  I  asserted  my  innocence  in  vain. 
A  second  appeal  to  Sir  Arthur  Yapp,  strengthened  by 
a  personal  visit  to  him  from  my  solicitor  who  urgently 
pointed  out  the  absurdity  of  the  "hoarding"  charge  in 
my  regard,  brought  the  following: — 

"NATIONAL  COUNCIL,  Y.M.C.A. 

"December  26,  1917. 

"DEAB  Miss  COEELLI, — Thanks  for  your  letters.  I 
was  glad  to  see  your  solicitor,  but  am  not  sure  that  I 
can  help  you.  I  will  gladly  do  so  if  I  can.  Unfor- 
tunately all  the  people  are  away  for  a  few  days.  I  will 
try  to  get  in  touch  with  the  Chairman  of  the  Sugar 
Commission  to-morrow,  Friday  or  Saturday.  I  will 
write  again.  I  am  so  sorry  you  are  having  this  worry. 
In  haste, 

"Yours  sincerely, 
"A.  K.  YAPP." 

Nevertheless,  with  all  this  amiable  "Yapp-ing"  he  did 
not  "get  in  touch"  with  the  Chairman  of  the  Sugar 


3T8  MT  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Commission,  then  Sir  Charles  Bathurst,  who  wrote 
himself  and  told  me  he  had  never  heard  a  word  of  the 
affair  till  he  saw  it  in  the  newspapers.  On  this  point 
my  solicitor  wrote  as  follows :  "I  am  glad  to  hear  that 
you  have  a  letter  from  Sir  Charles  Bathurst,  expressing 
sympathy.  I  cannot,  however,  overlook  the  fact  that 
whereas  Sir  Arthur  Yapp  had  no  power  apart  from 
Sir  Charles  to  take  cognisance  of  facts  which  I  brought 
to  his  notice  with  a  view  to  stopping  an  unjustifiable 
prosecution  calculated  to  do  you  an  injury,  Sir  Charles 
Bathurst  had  ample  power  and  did  not  exercise  it, 
although  approached  by  Sir  Arthur  Yapp.  I  do  not 
think  the  Food  Control  Department  even  troubled  to 
send  the  case  to  their  counsel,  but  merely  seized  the 
opportunity  to  accept  a  statement  which  was  not  in 
conformity  with  the  evidence,  was  a  violation  of  the 
highest  principles  of  justice,  and  a  slur  upon  the 
summary  jurisdiction  of  the  land." 

And  so  the  case  went  on.  Yapp  meantime  addressed 
a  crowd  on  Tower  Hill  and  assured  them  "Marie  Co- 
relli's  sugar  had  been  taken  from  her" — which  was  a 
flaring  fiction  as  there  was  no  excess  of  sugar  to  take. 
He  failed  to  mention  that  the  victim  he  thus  pilloried 
had  given  far  more  than  the  sugar's  worth  to  the 
Y.M.C.A.,  of  which  he  posed  as  the  pious  and  con- 
scientious Head!  But  "that's  another  story"!  He 
felt  perfectly  justified,  however,  in  handing  over  my 
personal  letters  to  him  (marked  "Private")  to  a  Mr. 
Wise,  his  secretary,  I  believe,  whom  my  solicitor  found 
reading  them  to  his  lady  clerks  by  way  of  a  little 
entertainment — and  so  altogether  I  rank  Sir  Arthur 
Yapp  with  Shakespeare's  Brutus,  and  here  express  my 
profound  acknowledgments. 


"HOARDING"  279 

On  the  2nd  of  January,  1918,  the  case  for  my 
"hoarding"  was  tried  by  the  eminent  "bench"  of 
Stratford-on-Avon.  My  servants  were  subpoenaed — 
they  sat  patiently  in  court,  but  nobody  asked  them  a 
single  question !  A  legal  representative  of  Sir  Thomas 
Lipton's,  glib  as  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  managed  things  for 
his  principal  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  Sir  Thomas 
scot-free,  though  in  other  similar  cases  the  supplier  was 
fined  in  the  same  sum  as  the  supplied.  I  was  not  in 
court.  My  friend,  who  has  all  the  responsibility  of 
housekeeping,  went  into  the  witness-box  and  answered 
all  questions  plainly  and  honestly — but  plainness  and 
honesty  do  not  count  for  much  in  law.  The  point  which 
Dogberry  and  Verges  adhered  to  was  that  they  did  not 
believe  we  had  used  the  sugar  for  jam !  Was  ever  any- 
thing more  absurdly  humorous!  We  were  ready  and 
willing  to  make  public  exhibition  of  the  jam ;  we  offered 
those  amazing  "city  officers"  free  permission  to  inspect 
it — but  they  would  not!  They  preferred  to  doubt  the 
word  of  a  lady  through  whose  hands  many  hundreds  of 
pounds  had  been  spent  in  the  town  and  whose  well- 
known  straight-forward  character  makes  her  incapable 
of  truckling  to  falsehood  or  hypocrisy.  I  must  not 
forget  to  mention  that  the  worthy  Dogberrys  had  been 
much  bamboozled  b^  xl  _~^^~u  delivery  of  large 
wooden  boxes  at  my  house  labelled  "Maypole  Tea," 
"Tate's  Sugar,"  "Nestle's  Milk,"  etc.,  etc.;  it  looked 
very  like  "hoarding,"  surely  ?  A  constable  followed  the 
packages  up  through  an  open  passage  leading  to  out- 
houses, and  there  to  his  immense  chagrin  discovered  that 
these  cases  contained  nothing  but  material  for  electric- 
wiring  and  lighting,  sent  by  Messrs.  Tredegars  of  -Brook 
Street,  who  had  undertaken  the  installation  of  the  elec- 


280  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

trie  light  in  my  house.  They  were  compelled  to  pack 
their  goods  in  any  boxes  they  could  secure,  there  being 
a  "shortage"  in  packing-cases  as  in  everything  else,  and 
when  the  "hoarding"  trial  came  on,  the  director  of  the 
firm  offered  most  kindly  and  courteously  to  attend  the 
court  and  explain  the  share  his  boxes  had  in  the  silly 
accusation.  But  there  was  no  need;  Dogberry  and 
Verges  had  already  made  up  their  minds.  My  chief 
assailants  were  the  Superintendent  of  Police  in  Strat- 
ford and  the  Town  Clerk — and  after  the  case  was  over 
and  they  had  "convicted"  me  of  what  I  had  never 
committed  (though  the  "bench"  disagreed  among  them* 
selves),  all  the  clues  were  placed  in  my  hands  in  such 
a  remarkable  way  as  would  remind  one  of  Sherlock 
Holmes  if  there  were  time  or  space  to  tell  it !  Perhaps 
the  following  sentence  from  a  legal  document  may  put 
the  matter  clearly: — 

"The  root  of  the  whole  evil  is  your  local  bench,  and 
bias  is  self-evident  by  the  action  of  the  Acting  Clerk, 
when  Tie  withheld  information  from  us  as  to  the  findings 
of  the  Justices  until  after  the  time  to  appeal  to  Quarter 
Sessions  had  elapsed." 

I  have  often  wondered  why  this  malignity?  Why, 
too,  on  the  part  of  the  "Acting  Clerk,"  whom  I  have 
always  beheld  with  respectful  admiration  in  his  curly 
white  wig  marching  in  the  Shakespeare  Sunday  or 
Mayoral  processions  to  Church?  He  is  my  beau-ideal 
of  a  cultured  Dogberry — his  very  look  and  movement 
express — "I  am  a  wise  fellow;  and  which  is  more  an 
officer;  and  which  is  more  a  householder;  and  which 
is  more  as  pretty  a  piece  of  flesh  as  any  in  Messina 
(Stratford)  and  one  thaf  knows  the  law,  go  to;  and 
a  rich  fellow  enough,  go  to;  and  a  fellow  that  hath 


"HOARDING"  281 

had  losses;  and  one  that  hath  two  gowns  and  every- 
thing handsome  about  him!  O  that  I  had  been  writ 

down "    ISTo — I  will  not  finish  the  quotation ;  suffice 

it  to  say  that  I  have  never  intentionally  or  to  my  knowl- 
edge caused  offence  to  this  excellent  man.  But  both 
Church  and  State  were  in  the  persecution  of  my  quite 
innocent  personality;  two  dismissed  outdoor  employes 
of  my  own  first  started  the  mischief,  and  as  one  had 
found  a  temporary  job  on  the  local  "food  control,"  it 
was  easy  to  trace  the  work  of  hands  guided  by  personal 
spite  and  desire  to  give  me  trouble.  Afraid  to  start  the 
accusation  in  Stratford  itself,  they  quite  ingenuously 
managed  to  transfer  it  through  a  mutual  friend  to 
London,  from  whence  the  "summons"  was  "arranged" 
to  come — and  since  then,  having  found  out  the  whole 
petty  plot,  I  have  been  full  of  amused  compassion  for 
the  miserable  plotters.  They  must  surely  feel  that  the 
game  was  hardly  worth  the  candle!  Of  course,  press- 
reporters  rushed  down  like  hounds  in  full  cry  directly 
they  scented  possible  injury  to  me — they  would  never 
have  troubled  themselves  to  note  anything  I  did  of 
good — but  anything  that  savoured  of  meanness  and  dis- 
loyalty on  my  part  was  "nuts"  to  them !  As  they  never 
saw  me,  and  I  made  no  appearance  in  court,  these  poor 
untidy  pressmen  were  reduced  to  their  usual  fictions, 
and  wired  all  over  the  world  that  I  had  "made  a  scene  in 
court,"  "attacked  Lloyd  George,"  etc.,  etc. !  (And  yet, 
just  before  this  comedy  started,  and  a  propos  of  sugar, 
I  had  sent  Miss  Megan  Lloyd  George  some  chocolate 
"eclairs"  made  at  home,  with  which  this  charming  little 
friend  of  mine  was  much  delighted !)  Yes — these  chiv- 
alrous press-men  labelled  me  from  England  to  furthest 
Ind  as  a  hoarder  and  hypocrite  and  I  was  left  without 


282  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

remedy.  I  was  assailed  by  the  lowest  anonymous  letters 
and  post  cards;  of  course  one  knows  how  to  take  such 
off-scourings  of  depraved  human  minds,  as  no  one  but 
a  villain,  male  or  female,  would  write  an  anonymous 
letter.  But  with  all  the  pain  I  felt  at  the  misjudgment, 
amounting  almost  to  cruelty,  of  the  press,  which  delib- 
erately did  its  best  to  injure  me  with  my  reading  public, 
I  had  my  compensations.  I  had  hundreds  of  letters 
from  our  men  at  the  front  indignantly  protesting  against 
the  wrong  done  to  me — and  a  wonderful  document 
signed  by  the  officers  and  men  of  the  Overseas  Military 
Forces  of  Canada  came  to  hearten  me  up  by  its  generous 
testimony  as  follows : — 

"We,  the  undersigned  Officers,  Non-Commissioned 
Officers,  and  Men  of  the  Overseas  Military  Forces  of 
Canada  desire  to  take  this  opportunity  of  expressing 
to  you  our  gratitude  for  the  many  acts  of  kindness  and 
hospitality  that  you  have  shown  to  the  members  of  the 
Canadian  Forces  since  they  arrived  in  this  country. 

"We  also  wish  to  express  to  you  our  sympathies  in 
the  recent  cruel  and  unjust  charge  of  'hoarding'  which 
was  brought  against  you,  and  we  feel  sure  that  when  the 
true  facts  are  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  the  public 
they  will  realise  that  the  spirit  of  patriotism  you  have 
shown  throughout  the  war,  and  the  generosity  with 
which  you  have  contributed  articles  to  the  various  peri- 
odicals published  for  the  benefit  of  the  troops  do  not 
coincide  with  the  possibility  of  any  contravention  of  war 
measures. 

"We  also  wish  to  add  the  expression  of  our  admiration 
for  the  pre-eminent  position  you  have  attained  in  the 
world  of  literature  and  art,  and  to  assure  you  that  none 


"HOARDING"  283 

appreciate  your  works  more  than  the  people  of  Canada. 
"We  trust  that  this  assurance  of  our  admiration  for 
your  genius,  and  our  sympathy  in  the  worry  to  which 
you  have  been  so  unjustly  subjected,  will  prove  to  you 
that  we  are  not  unmindful  of  the  kindness  and  warm 
interest  you  have  invariably  shown  towards  Canadian 
soldiers. 

"We  beg  to  remain, 

"Sincerely  yours," 

Here  followed  a  long  list  of  officers'  and  men's  names; 
the  kind  and  generous  testimonial  of  their  friendship 
was  dated  from  Bramshott  Camp,  Hants,  April  16th, 
1918. 

I  make  no  comment  on  this  most  valued  "vote  of 
confidence"  voluntarily  given  by  brave  and  chivalrous 
men.  I  publish  it  just  as  it  is — one  of  my  most  precious 
possessions.  I  can  endure  even  dear  Dogberry's  malice 
with  such  a  battalion  of  fighting  friends ! 

One  other  thing  may  be  mentioned  as  showing  the 
curious  cross-purposes  of  the  Stratford-on-Avon  "jus- 
tices" in  the  prosecution  against  me,  and  that  is  the 
letter  written  to  me  by  the  Deputy-Mayor  on  the  eve 
of  the  trial — thus : — 

"December  31, 1917. 

"DEAR  Miss  COEELLI, — Allow  me  to  offer  you  my 
sincere  wishes  that  the  year  1918  may  prove  to  you 
and  yours  one  of  unalloyed  happiness.  In  these  days 
such  a  wish  may  seem  impossible  of  achievement. 
Amidst  the  strife  of  nations  and  the  world-wide  clash 
of  arms  there  must  be  anxiety  and  care  for  all  who  love 
their  country,  and  the  'petty  pin-pricks'  which  come  to 


284:  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

all  who  try  to  do  their  duty  will  no  doubt  try  the  temper 
and  patience ;  but  amidst  all  life's  worries  the  conscious- 
ness of  duty  done,  of  love  for  others,  and  the  desire  to 
do  always  what  is  right  will  bring  you  that  real  peace 
and  happiness  which  the  world  cannot  give.  That  you 
may  have  this  in  1918  and  the  years  to  follow  is  my 
earnest  wish.  With  kind  regards, 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"FEED  WINTER." 

So  was  the  "Winter  of  my  discontent"  moved  to  try 
making  a  bit  of  "glorious  summer"  on  the  eve  of  the 
"Hoarding"  case!  I  was  grateful,  of  course — and  I 
did  not  allow  myself  to  dwell  on  the  thought  that 
perhaps,  only  perhaps,  he  was  thus  moved  because  long 
before  the  "hoarding"  case,  my  "hoarding"  tendencies 
had  prominently  displayed  themselves  in  agreeing  to 
pay  £60  towards  the  restoration  of  his  ancient  house  in 
the  High  Street,  a  sum  which  no  one  else  volunteered ! 
I  did  it  for  love  and  honour  of  the  town's  antique 
beauty — not  for  any  self-laudation  or  advantage ;  and  I 
am  glad  to  have  been  of  some  use  in  this  direction.  It 
is  a  quaint  coincidence  that  this  same  Deputy-Mayor, 
when  I  previously  aided  the  restoration  of  the  now 
famous  "Tudor"  House  opposite  the  Town  Hall,  accused 
me  in  the  local  press  of  doing  it  for  "self-advertise- 
ment." I  am  sure  he  must  regret  this  temporary  mis- 
judgment  now  that  his  own  house  shows  its  Henry 
Vllth  timbers  to  the  light  of  day. 

Briefly  to  sum  up,  I  am  and  always  have  been 
absolutely  guiltless  of  "hoarding"  anything.  I  would 
rather  give  than  receive,  and  am  quite  an  adept  at 
"doing  without."  And  if  I  may  presume  to  quote 


"HOARDING"  285 

finally  from  the  original  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  I 
can  say  that  while  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  the  local 
"Conrade"  and  "Borachio"  who  vented  their  spite 
against  me,  I  think  there  are  many  now  in  Stratford- 
Dn-Avon  itself  who  would  say  with  the  original  Dog- 
berry : — 

"Marry,  sir,  they  have  committed  false  report;  more- 
over, they  have  spoken  untruths;  secondarily  they  are 
slanderers;  sixth  and  lastly  they  have  belied  a  lady; 
thirdly  they  have  verified  unjust  things." 

As  for  the  excellent  Sir  Thomas  Lipton,  who  was 
much  more  troubled  in  his  mind  about  this  little  affair 
than  I  was,  and  who,  though  he  supplied  the  contested 
sugar,  escaped  all  fine  and  also  escaped  the  contumely 
of  the  press  which  was  heaped  upon  me  like  a  cartload 
of  bricks,  without  rhyme  or  reason,  without  honesty  or 
justice,  and  without  a  single  word  of  truth  in  the  various 
reports  cabled  all  over  the  world  to  do  me  as  much 
injury  as  possible;  he  was  so  relieved  and  happy  to  think 
nothing  was  said  about  his  own  share  in  the  matter  that 
he  was  more  genial  and  delightsome  than  ever.  And  I 
have  reason  to  believe  that  he  is  "flattered  to  death," 
as  our  American  cousins  sometimes  say,  by  the  parody 
I  wrote  for  him  "after  Eobert  Burns,"  which  I  call — 

A  New  Version  of 

"A  MAN'S  A  MAN  FOE  A'  THAT" 
Cordially  Inscribed  to  8ir  Thomas  Lipton 

Fair  fa'  our  bouncin'  braggart  Tarn, 

Wha  perks  his  heid  an'  a'  that, 
The  Prince  o'  Pickles  and  o'  Jam, 

Wha  daurs  be  rich  on  a'  that ! 


286  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

For  a'  that  an'  a'  that, 
His  Butter,  Tea,  an'  a'  that, 
He's  found  his  iBank  the  way  to  rank, 

An'  Tarn  is  Tarn  for  a'  that ! 


What  though  wi'  Koyalty  he'll  dine, 

'Mid  sleekit  Jews  an'  a'  that, 
Tarn  disna  drink  their  best  o'  wine, 
He's  wide  awake  an'  a'  that ! 

For  a'  that  an'  a'  that, 
Their  duds  an'  shows  an'  a'  that, 
The  "Lipton  Shares"  are  worth  them  a' 
An'  Tarn  is  Tarn  for  a'  that! 

Ye  see  yon  birkie  ca'd  a  lord, 

Wha  struts  an'  stares  an'  a'  that, 

When  tradesmen  winna  tak'  his  word, 

Tarn  rules  his  roast  an'  a'  that ! 

For  a'  that  an'  a'  that, 
His  ribbon,  stars  an'  a'  that, 
Tarn  kens  his  man  baifth  oot  an'  in, 
An'  looks  an'  laughs  at  a'  that. 

The  Premier  maks  a  belted  knight, 

A  duke,  an  earl  an'  a'  that, 
But  a  "Lipton's  Stores"  aboon  his  might, 
Gude  faith !  he  maunna  fa'  that ! 

For  a'  that  an'  a'  that, 
Their  pride  o'  place  an'  a'  that, 
Monopolies  o'  Ham  and  Tea 

Mak'  louder  fame  than  a'  that ! 


"HOARDING"  287 


An'  Tarn  has  gi'en  Y.M.C.A. 

A  muckle  cheque  an'  a'  that, 
An'  angels  waft  him  on  his  way 
To  Paradise  an'  a'  that ! 
For  a'  that  an'  a'  that, 
For  that's  the  end  o'  a'  that ; 
His  lavish  hand's  its  own  reward, 
An'  Tarn  is  Tarn  for  a'  that! 


THREE  HUNDRED  YEARS  OF  FAME 

AVE  SHAKESPEAEE ! 

THREE  hundred  years  ago,  on  April  23,  1616,  William 
Shakespeare,  of  whom  Carlyle  wrote  as  "the  pink  and 
flower  of  remembered  Englishmen — the  greatest  thing 
we  have  yet  done  and  managed  to  produce  in  this 
world,"  drew  his  last  breath  at  "New  Place,"  the  home 
he  had  earned  for  himself  in  his  native  town  of  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon.  The  great  bell  of  the  Guild  Chapel 
facing  the  garden  side  of  his  "pretty  house  of  brick  and 
timber"  tolled  for  his  passing;  but  the  great  voice  of 
the  world  which  acclaims  him  so  loudly  to-day  was 
dumb. 

In  those  Puritan  times  he  was  but  little  considered ; 
and  no  hint  or  whisper  of  his  coming  renown  stirred  the 
sleepy  quietude  of  the  little  country  place  where  he 
was  born  and  where  he  died.  His  fellow-townsmen 
of  that  period  kept  no  particular  record  of  him,  nor 
did  they  dream  of  him  as  the  future  King  of  English 
Literature.  He  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  chancel  of  the 
Parish  Church — an  honoured  place  allowed  to  him,  not 
because  of  his  genius  as  a  Poet,  for  this  was  as  indif- 
ferent a  matter  then  to  the  good  bucolic  folk  of  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon  as  it  is  now,  but  because  he  had,  by 
purchase,  become  part  owner  of  the  tithes  and  as  a  lay- 
rector  had  right  of  interment  there. 

In  his  lifetime  he  assumed  to  be  nothing  but  a  simple 
288 


THREE  HUNDRED  YEARS  OF  FAME  289 

industrious  man  of  business  who  "adapted"  and  re- 
arranged  old  plays  to  suit  the  requirements  of  the  Globe 
Theatre;  and  he  flung  out  the  splendid  rays  of  his 
dazzling  poetic  genius  over  these  dry  bones  of  romance 
and  history  as  freely  and  with  as  grand  an  absence 
of  self-consciousness  as  the  sun  which  shines  alike 
on  the  just  and  the  unjust. 

Nothing  probably  would  have  surprised  him  more  or 
moved  him  to  such  incredulous  smiling  as  to  have  been 
told  that  in  three  hundred  years  his  fame  would  surpass 
that  of  any  other  Englishman  ever  born!  He  would 
have  put  aside  the  prophecy  with  good-humoured  laugh- 
ter and  would  never  have  given  it  another  thought. 
For  his  wordly  aims  were  perfectly  straightforward  and 
simple;  they  were,  plainly — to  earn  a  sufficient  com- 
petence and  to  stand  on  an  independent  footing  with 
his  fellows,  to  live  with  his  family  in  ease  and  com- 
fort, and  to  end  his  days  in  peace  in  the  town  where 
he  was  born.  No  ideal  could  be  more  free  from  arro- 
gance. His  whole  career  is  an  object  lesson  of  infinite 
Greatness  to  the  infinitely  Little ! 

The  vital  centre  of  Shakespeare's  marvellous  power 
is  surely  his  impersonality.  His  creative  spirit  moved 
behind  the  passing  show  of  kings  and  queens  and  his- 
toric events,  moulding  them  to  his  mood,  but  never 
displaying  itself.  Like  light  it  shed  colour  on  whatso- 
ever it  illumined.  So  little  may  we  guess  of  Shakef- 
speare's  personality  from  his  writings  that  he  has  made 
of  himself  an  Enigma.  We  cannot  even  tell  what  form 
of  creed  he  professed,  though  we  know  and  feel  that 
the  devout  worship  of  an  invisible  and  intelligent  Force 
behind  Nature  filled  him  with  highest  faith  and  purest 
service  towards  God.  We  cannot  find  out  his  special 


290  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

likes  or  dislikes,  save  in  slight  indications  here  and 
there,  such  as  his  plainly  indicated  abhorrence  of  Jews 
— and  Germans !  Great  as  is  the  professed  admiration 
of  the  Teuton  for  our  English  Master-Mind,  we  wonder 
how  he  can  get  over  such  lines  as  these : — 

"A  German  from  the  waist  downward,  all  slops !" 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

"Like  a  full-acorn'd  boar,  a  German  one." — Cymbeline. 

"Three  German  devils,  three  Doctor  Faustuses." 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

"Holding  in  disdain  the  German  women 
For  some  dishonest  manners." 

Henry  V. 

"Like  a  German  clock, 
Still  a'repairing,  ever  out  of  frame." 

Love's  Labours  Lost. 

While  the  discussion  between  Portia  and  ISTerissa  in 
the  Merchant  of  Venice  caps  all : — 

NEKISSA:  How  like  you  the  young  German,  the 
Duke  of  Saxony's  nephew? 

PORTIA:  Very  vilely  in  the  morning  when  he  is 
sober,  and  most  vilely  in  the  afternoon  when  he  is 
drunk;  when  he  is  best,  he  is  a  little  worse  than  a 
man;  and  when  he  is  worst,  he  is  little  better  than  a 
beast. 

One  other  thing  we  may  perceive,  and  that  is  our 
Poet's  scorn  of  pettiness  and  treachery.  Individual 


THREE  HUNDRED  YEARS  OF  FAME  291 

deceit — public  or  private  hypocrisy — these  seem  to 
Shakespeare's  mind  unforgivable.  The  "black-handed" 
hit — the  cruel  slander — the  malicious  lie — against  these 
he  delivers  his  most  trenchant  blows ;  but  farther  than 
this  we  are  unable  to  penetrate  into  the  kingdom  of 
his  heart  or  sentiment. 

To  woman  he  assigns  the  highest  place  as  inspirer 
and  saviour  of  man;  when  he  shows  her  other  than 
this,  as  in  Lady  Macbeth,  he  makes  remorse  half  con- 
done her  sins  and  death  conclude  them.  He  seemed  to 
be  absolutely  unconscious  of  any  superiority  in  himself 
to  others  of  his  own  calling.  His  poetic  gift  was  like 
song  to  a  nightingale  that  warbles  for  sheer  delight  and 
amorousness,  in  delicious  ignorance  of  the  entrancing 
beauty  of  its  melody. 

What  affects,  or  should  affect,  us  most  deeply  to-day 
is  the  deplorable  fact  that  for  three  hundred  years  we 
have  had  no  poet,  no  dramatist,  to  approach  Shake- 
speare in  any  sense — neither  in  beauty  of  language, 
loftiness  of  thought,  nor  simple  naturalness  of  expres- 
sion. Se  towers  among  us  as  a  veritable  giant  among 
pigmies — for  the  men  of  letters  in  all  parts  of  the 
world  at  this  epoch,  men  who  are  scrambling  and  push- 
ing themselves  forward  to  offer  a  very  poor  and  in- 
adequate "homage"  to  this  mightiest  genius  of  all  time, 
are  of  such  microscopic  attainment  when  compared  with 
him  that  one  needs  a  mental  lens  to  perceive  them  at 
all. 

These  are  they  for  whom  Self  is  not  only  the  key- 
note, but  the  whole  tune.  Some  of  them  take  pride 
in  their  "style";  whereas  Shakespeare  had  no  "style" 
save  his  own,  which  has  become  a  living  part  of  the 
English  language.  He  defied  laws  and  conventions  and 


292  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

dramatic  "unities";  he  dared  to  be  his  own  master; 
and  fortunately  there  were  no  newspapers  in  his  day 
to  publish  venomous  criticisms  which  might  have 
daunted  or  discouraged  his  efforts. 

The  earliest  newspaper,  or  News  Packet,  as  it  was 
called,  was  issued  in  1619,  three  years  after  Shake- 
speare's death.  Shakespeare's  critics  were  the  public 
• — in  fact,  the  "gallery."  He  "played  to  the  gallery," 
and  played  "up" — never  "down."  Moreover,  he  waa 
apparently  so  indifferent  to  his  own  literary  reputation 
that  he  made  no  effort  to  publish  any  of  his  works, 
and  allowed  them  to  be  pirated  wholesale.  Only  in  the 
case  of  the  two  poems  dedicated  to  the  Earl  of  South- 
ampton— "Venus  and  Adonis"  and  "The  Rape  of  Lu- 
crece" — does  he  seem  to  have  taken  any  personal  inter- 
est in  his  own  productions. 

One  may  perhaps  venture  to  suggest  that  probably 
he  attached  no  importance  to  what  he  knew  were 
"adaptations"  of  old  plays,  and  thought  nothing  of  the 
rich  poesy  wherewith  he  had  endowed  them.  The 
most  of  his  work  was  this  of  industrious  "adaptation" ; 
so  that  he  might  have  modestly  considered  it  to  be 
scarcely  his  own  and  that  the  magnificent  speeches  he 
put  in  the  mouths  of  his  stage  puppets  were  only  a 
part  of  what  is  called  "business."  The  superb  indif- 
ference he  thus  displayed  to  his  own  place  in  the  estima- 
tion of  others  was  a  striking  proof  of  his  sub-conscious 
power.  That  his  contemporaries  mentioned  him  but 
little  would  not  have  troubled  a  mind  like  Shakespear's 
and  Robert  Green's  jealous  attack  upon  him  as  "an 
upstart  Crow,  beautified  with  our  feathers,  with  his 
Tyger's  heart  wrapt  in  a  Player's  hide,"  would  but 


THEEE  HUNDRED  YEARS  OF  FAME    293 

have  moved  him  to  a  compassionate  smile  at  such  an 
outburst  of  malice  and  envy. 

The  chief  lesson  we  may  learn  from  Shakespeare's 
unapproachable  fame  is  of  that  greatness  which  is 
"impersonal."  The  literary  men  of  our  day  are  all 
painfully  personal  and  are  seldom  satisfied  unless  they 
are  elbowing  each  other  out  of  the  way  or  scrambling 
over  each  other  to  the  front;  and  some  of  them  are 
never  happier  than  when  they  can  fasten  themselves, 
like  barnacles,  to  the  splendid  ship  of  Shakespeare's 
immortal  genius,  which  sails  serenely  onward  over  the 
seas  of  the  infinite.  As  barnacles  they  do  no  particular 
harm;  for,  cling  as  they  will,  the  great  waves  of  time 
generally  sweep  them  off  in  the  progress  of  the  voyage, 
while  the  great  Ship  goes  on,  carrying  its  messages  of 
truth,  honour,  and  strong  patriotism  to  all  the  world! 
And  it  will  still  sail  on,  till  the  English  language  shall 
be  no  more.  For  if,  in  centuries  to  come,  nothing 
should  be  left  of  England  but  Shakespeare,  his  name 
would  be  sufficient  to  prove  that  England  once  had 
lived  I 


SHAKESPEARE'S  WAR  BIRTHDAY  IN  1917 

NEGLECTED   HONOTJBS 

MANY  of  our  newspapers  devoted  columns  of  matter 
to  "St.  George's  Day" ;  and  the  writers  of  the  various 
articles  on  this  subject  "gushed"  in  special  and  par- 
ticular fashion  over  a  purely  mythical  knight,  whom 
legendary  lore  supposes  to  have  killed  a  purely  mythical 
dragon.  But  a  very  general  omission  was  made  of  a 
real  and  a  far  greater  personage  than  St.  George,  whose 
day  of  birth  and  death  coincides  with  that  of  the  dragon- 
slayer,  namely,  William  Shakespeare,  "the  beautifullest 
English  soul  this  England  confesses  to  have  made,  the 
pink  and  flower  of  remembered  Englishmen,  the  great- 
est thing,  it  appears,  that  we  have  yet  done  and  managed 
to  produce  in  this  world,"  according  to  right-thinking 
Thomas  Carlyle.  America,  too,  bears  witness  to  the 
same  truth  through  the  golden  voice  of  her  noble  teach- 
er Emerson,  who  thus  writes :  "All  the  sweets  and  all  the 
terrors  of  human  lot  lay  in  his  mind  as  truly,  but  as 
softly,  as  the  landscape  lies  on  the  eye."  He  was, 
and  is,  our  greatest  Englishman — our  finest  patriot — 
and,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  he  will  be  our  chief 
claim  to  remembrance  in  history.  Very  strange  has 
it  seemed  to  thousands  of  us,  especially  Americans, 
that  during  the  present  crisis  and  stress  of  war  the 
Press  of  Great  Britain  should  have  apparently  for- 
gotten to  mention  the  name  of  perhaps  the  greatest 

294 


SHAKESPEARE'S  WAR  BIRTHDAY     295 

Maker  of  England  on  his  natal  day.  Some  one  tella 
us,  "It  has  never  occurred  before."  Then  why  has  it 
occurred  now? 

Had  Shakespeare  been  alive  to-day  we  can  easily 
imagine  his  attitude  in  regard  to  the  war.  Very  English 
of  English,  he  would  have  tolerated  no  half  measures. 
He,  like  Sir  Francis  Drake,  would  have  had  short  shrift 
for  any  foe  that  sought  to  "raid"  the  shores  of  his 
beloved  Britain!  Not  for  him  would  have  been  the 
message  of  the  Vice- Admiral  at  Dover:  "We  were 
fortunate  in  being  able  to  save  the  lives  of  ten  German 
officers  and  ninety-five  men  from  the  vessels  which  were 
sunk!"  He  would  have  exclaimed:  "Out  upon  such 
'fortune' !"  And  he  might  have  judged  it  as  somewhat 
of  a  misfortune  that  a  British  Vice-Admiral  lived  who 
could  write  it  down  as  "fortunate"  to  rescue  any  mem- 
bers of  the  same  savage  Hun  tribe  that  sank  the  Lusir 
tania  and  scruples  not  to  sink  hospital  ships !  Another 
word  might  have  been  found  for  the  occasion;  and 
Shakespeare  would  have  been  the  man  to  find  it.  To 
Shakespeare's  mind,  a  friend  was  a  friend — a  foe  was 
a  foe.  Treachery  was  his  chief  abhorrence.  When  he 
lived  in  Stratford-on-Avon  for  the  last  remaining  years 
of  his  career  we  know  by  various  records  that  he  was 
subjected  to  many  petty  annoyances  at  the  hands  of 
his  own  townsfolk,  so  that  almost  up  to  his  death  he 
was  involved  in  litigation,  defending  himself  from  libel 
and  his  daughter  from  scandal.  The  Corporation  were 
ready  enough  to  borrow  money  of  him — yes !  that  goes 
without  saying.  But  for  sympathy,  comprehension!, 
and  friendship  he  had  to  seek  outside  his  native  town 
altogether.  It  would  seem  he  has  to  do  that  still ;  and 
not  only  has  he  to  go  outside  his  native  town,  but  outside 


296  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

his  native  land.  In  America  his  works  are  much  better 
known,  loved,  and  honoured  than  in  Great  Britain;  in 
France,  where  it  is  difficult  to  understand  him  owing 
to  the  insuperable  obstacles  of  his  language  for  French- 
men, there  is  a  "societe"  founded  by  an  erudite  Israelite, 
with  a  British  committee  who  are  entirely  unknown  as 
real  students  of  Shakespeare,  but  who  have  "names"  dis- 
tinguished in  other  walks  of  life.  In  Russia  the  bard 
is  viewed  as  a  sort  of  demi-god,  for  his  verse  translates 
into  Russian  superbly ;  and  in  the  Germany  of  the  past 
Lessing's  translation  of  the  plays  made  him  the  father 
of  German  literature,  as  represented  by  Goethe,  Schiller, 
and  others  who  distinguished  themselves  before  the  black 
night  of  Hohenzollern  decadence.  But  if  we  take  our 
own  islands — in  Scotland  he  is  hardly  understood;  in 
Ireland,  seldom  read  or  acted ;  in  Wales,  almost  a  sealed 
book ;  while  in  England  itself — well,  as  Martin  Harvey 
has  recently  said,  a  quarter  of  one  day's  war  expenses 
would  establish  a  National  Theatre,  where  the  great 
plays  could  be  produced  in  a  fitting  manner  as  part  of 
the  national  education. 

*•••*•• 

In  Stratford-on-Avon  this  year's  anniversary  of  the 
poet's  birth  and  death  has  passed  almost  unmarked. 
No  actor  has  urged  his  willing  service  to  his  Master  in 
the  theatre  by  the  Avon,  though  this,  for  many  reasons, 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  True,  the  bells  of  the  church 
rang — true,  the  flags  of  nations  were  unfurled,  and 
there  was  a  dolefully  shabby  "flower"  procession;  but 
in  the  Memorial  Theatre  there  was  only  a  lecture,  not 
on  Shakespeare,  but  on  a  movement  inaugurated  by  the 
lecturer  himself.  Then  there  were  all  the  usual  "pats 
on  the  back"  of  every  person  to  the  other  concerned,  a 


SHAKESPEARE'S  WAE  BIRTHDAY 

trifle  of  music,  and  there  an  end.  Shakespeare  him- 
self was  nowhere,  though — yes! — perhaps  out  in  the 
moist  woods,  where  the  primroses  are  beginning  to  push 
through  the  mould  and  the  call  of  the  cuckoo  is  faintly 
heard,  one  might  have  met  his  tranquil  Spirit  moving 
apart  from  all  "alarums  and  excursions,"  and  have 
heard  his  voice  in  words  which  he  could  well  address  just 
now  to  England. 

"Nay,  if  you  read  this  line,  remember  not 
The  hand  that  writ  it,  for  I  love  you  so, 
That  I  in  your  sweet  thoughts  would  be  forgot, 
If  thinking  on  me  then  should  make  you  woe." 


"DON'T  TEAVEL" 

A   HABD    HIT 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mali  Gazette") 

WE  are  all  called  upon  to  make  sacrifices,  both  public 
and  personal.  ISTo  one  can  assert  that  we  do  not  make 
them  "willingly,  and  for  the  most  part  uncomplainingly, 
put  our  Dictators  appear  blind  to  the  fact  that  in  many 
cases  their  orders  and  "restrictions"  are  ruining  British 
trades,  while  affording  the  greatest  possible  relief  and 
satisfaction  to  the  Boches.  The  well-fed  Huns  heard 
with  malicious  glee  the  admission  of  Mr.  Bonar  Law 
that  we  were  at  one  time  short  of  fighting  men  by  a 
hundred  thousand — an  undiplomatic  avowal  which  for 
sheer  bad  tact  ranks  alongside  of  Lord  Devonport's 
"grave"  warnings  of  "food  shortage,"  and  Captain 
Bathurst's  advertised  appetite  for  "pickled  herrings." 
If  "shortage"  of  any  kind  exists,  why  "give  it  away" 
to  the  enemy?  It  is  of  a  nature  to  be  dealt  with  "in 
secret  Session,"  not  in  the  open  House,  where  promi- 
nent members  themselves  admit  that  whatever  is  said  is 
at  once  taken  to  Germany.  Is  it  surprising,  then,  that 
with  the  crazy  exaggerations  and  falsehoods  of  the  Ger- 
man Press,  our  foes  assert  that  "England  is  starving !" 
and  that  "there  are  not  enough  men  left  to  us  to  fight 
with!"  How  much  wiser  and  more  dignified  it  would 
be  to  let  them  clearly  understand  that,  honestly,  we  are 
not  suffering  at  all  from  any  real  food  hardships,  and 

298 


"DON'T  TKAVEL"  299 

that  we  shall  have  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  extra 
men  ready  to  fight  them  should  occasion  arise.  Mr. 
Bonar  Law  may  be  a  Scottish  "man  of  iron,"  but  he  is 
also  very  guileless  if  he  does  not  realise  the  derision  and 
delight  of  the  Boche  over  the  statements  he  made  in 
the  House — statements  repeated  throughout  Germany, 
just  as  Mr.  Lloyd  George's  unfortunate  phrase,  "the 
horrible  danger  of  the  submarine,"  was  caught  up  by 
Bethmann-Hollweg,  and  repeated  with  devilish  laughter 
at  every  street  corner  in  Berlin.  When  we  are  at  grips 
with  a  foe  it  is  not  advisable  to  show  him  the  loose 
joints  in  our  armour.  To  us  British  there  should  be 
never  a  thought  or  a  word  of  "horrible  danger,"  espe- 
cially as  we  know  we  can  grow  our  own  necessary  food 
if  we  make  up  our  minds  to  do  it;  nor  should  we  ever 
publicly  admit  any  "shortage"  of  any  kind,  whether  in 
men  or  supplies.  To  admit  weakness  is  to  court  attack. 
Now  we  are  told  "not  to  travel" ;  not  to  take  the  much 
longed-for  Easter  rest,  with  Easter  hope  of  the  slowly 
coming  spring,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  those  of  us 
who  have  comfortable  homes  are  willing  enough  to  stay 
in  them.  But  for  the  brave,  patient  men  and  women 
who  have  given  up  their  homes  to  toil  day  and  night  at 
munition  work,  and  who  naturally  crave  for  a  breath 
of  country  or  sea  air,  whose  bodies  and  souls  are  weary, 
and  who  need,  if  only  a  few  hours,  change  of  scene 
and  movement  for  their  very  health's  sake,  the  restric- 
tions of  train  and  motor  service  are  surely  rather  an 
exercise  of  tyranny  ?  Not  only  does  the  ban  affect  the 
travelling  public  (we  presume  the  Cabinet  Ministers 
will  not  deny  themselves  their  Easter  recess?),  but  it 
spells  ruin  to  thousands  of  hard-working  folk  who  de- 
pend for  their  living  at  this  season  on  letting  lodgings 


300  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

in  the  country  or  at  the  seaside;  to  say  nothing  of  the 
disaster  undeservedly  inflicted  on  all  our  lovely  water- 
ing-places and  rural  resorts,  which  exist,  in  a  great 
measure,  on  the  influx  of  visitors,  whose  patronage  keeps 
them  going.  Surely  it  may  be  asked,  Why  destroy  the 
prosperity  of  our  own  people?  Why  lay  a  paralysing 
hand  on  our  own  trades  and  industries  ?  Is  it  to  give 
the  Boche  a  better  chance  when  the  war  is  over  ?  Before 
the  outbreak  of  the  Hohenzollern  madness,  hotels  and 
lodging-houses  in  all  our  pleasure  resorts  were  numer- 
ous and  prosperous,  and  the  greater  part  of  them  were 
carried  on  by — Germans !  One  could  not  go  anywhere 
without  meeting  German  managers  and  German  wait- 
ers. Now,  when  there  might  be  the  faint  ghost  of  a 
chance  for  the  British  hotel-keeper,  the  British  caterer, 
the  British  tradesman,  the  public  are  warned  off  with 
"Don't  travel!"  What  joy  for  the  Germans!  Our 
Dictators  simply  "fall"  into  their  hands  like  drugged 
moths  into  a  net,  and  the  way  they  go  to  work  suggests 
an  attempt  to  "Prussianise"  England,  and  make  ample 
preparation  for  a  German  "boom"  after  the  war,  when 
our  own  people,  half  ruined  by  "restrictions,"  have  not 
even  the  time  to  recoup  their  losses  or  start  afresh  on 
any  new  line  of  possible  prosperity.  If  the  enormous 
expenditure  of  the  war  is  to  be  met  by  the  people,  every 
chance  must  be  given  them  to  earn  the  money  wherewith 
to  meet  it.  None  of  the  workers  would  trouble  the  rail- 
way service  if  motor-cars  and  conveyances  were  allowed 
to  carry  them  out  for  an  Easter  breath  of  Easter  air, 
but  though  military  "swaggerers"  at  home  are  allowed 
to  dash  about  everywhere  in  cars  with  apparent  free- 
dom, the  "restriction"  on  petrol  holds  up  all  the  rest 


"DON'T  TRAVEL"  301 

of  the  public.    Yet,  as  a  matter  of  common  hearsay,  it 
is  asserted  that  "there  is  no  real  scarcity  of  petrol !" 

What  are  we  to  believe  ?  One  thing  is  pretty  certain, 
and  that  is  that  the  British  public,  though  so  patient 
"a  hass,"  may  kick  at  last  and  refuse  to  take  "rations" 
of  thistles,  while  the  German  Hog  is  fed  on  carrots  and 
corn.  To  quote  from  a  well-reasoned  article  in  a  morn- 
ing contemporary:  The  blind  and  fatal  shears  of  pro- 
miscuous prohibition  cut  off  the  just  and  the  unjust 
together.  They  are,  moreover,  a  most  disturbing  ele- 
ment in  trade,  and  are  reducing  our  merchants  to  de- 
spair." True !  And  if  the  "disturbing  element"  is  not 
promptly  checked,  we  may  look  out  for  storms! 


"TE  DEUM  LAUDAMUS" 

THE  GEEAT  THANKSGIVING 
(Published  in  the  "Pall-Mall  Gazette") 

IT  is  time  we  gave  thanks — indeed,  it  is  more  than  time ! 
Perhaps,  had  we  seen  more  clearly  into  the  future  we 
might  have  given  thanks  long  before  this — thanks  for 
our  kinship  with  America — for  the  ties  of  blood,  of 
language,  of  tradition,  memory,  and  association  which 
have  made  us,  as  some  say,  "cousins,"  but  as  we  prefer 
to  believe,  brothers — brothers  in  heart  and  soul,  as  we 
are  to-day  brothers-in-arms.  Let  it  be  admitted  that  we 
have  not  always  quite  understood  each  other.  Small 
rancours,  petty  jealousies,  trifling  differences  have  arisen 
casually  from  time  to  time  between  the  people  of  a  great 
Empire  and  the  people  of  a  great  Republic,  which  seem 
now  but  the  merest  gossamer  cobwebs  spun  by  the  ever- 
working  spiders  of  rumour  and  mischief,  easily  brushed 
away  at  a  touch.  The  trumpet  blast  of  a  noble  Cause 
has  brought  to  our  side  our  youngest  comrade,  alive  with 
energy,  passion,  and  enthusiasm,  expressing  in  every 
attitude  Tennyson's  eloquent  lines : — 

"I  wake  to  the  higher  aims 

Of  a  land  that  has  lost  for  a  little  her  lust  of  gold 
And  love  of  a  peace  that  was  full  of  wrongs  and  shames 
Horrible,  hateful,  monstrous,  not  to  be  told, 

And  I  hail  once  more  the  banner  of  battle,  unroll'd !" 
•  •••••• 

302 


"TE  DEUM  LAUDAMUS"  303 

And  we  have  taken  our  comrade  by  both  hands, 
and  have  knelt  with  him  under  the  great  dome  of  St. 
Paul's,  giving  our  thanks  to  God  for  bringing  us  this, 
our  brother;  and  we  claim  to  say  with  Lincoln  that 
we  do  not  presume  to  ask  the  Almighty  to  be  on  our 
side,  but  we  do  pray  that  we  may  be  on  the  side  of 
the  Almighty!  If  President  Wilson's  "Declaration  of 
War"  against  Germany  means  anything,  it  means  that 
right  and  justice,  freedom  and  truth,  are  all  of  God; 
and  therefore  to  fight  for  the  maintenance  of  these 
things  is  to  fight  for  God's  own  Law  and  Order.  The 
one  piece  of  eloquence  which  stands  out  in  distinctive 
greatness  amid  all  that  has  yet  been  spoken  concern- 
ing our  world-contest,  is  this  "Declaration,"  which  will 
go  down  to  posterity  as  matchless  for  high  principle, 
reasonableness,  and  clearness  of  diction — an  oration 
which  no  statesman  of  old  time,  whether  Greek  or 
Roman,  has  ever  surpassed,  in  what  we  know  of  history. 
It  should  have  been  read  aloud  in  every  church,  every 
school,  every  theatre,  every  public  assembly,  with  as 
much  impressiveness  as  a  Pope's  "Encyclical,"  and 
more! 

Nothing  do  we  need  so  much  in  this  country  as  to 
"catch  on"  to  some  of  the  enthusiasm  and  eagerness 
which  fires  our  American  Ally,  as  he  springs  to  our 
side  in  the  battle  under  the  bright  stars  of  the  "Old 
Glory."  He  is  young,  ardent,  and  ready  for  anything 
• — quick  eyed,  alert  of  brain,  he  means  to  "hustle" ! 
Some  of  us  need  to  be  infected  by  this  splendid  youth. 
A  curious  lethargy  clings  to  us  at  times — a  kind  of 
dumb  spell.  Is  it  excess  of  feeling?  Or — is  it  sheer 
egotism?  Our  French  friends  marvel  at  the  indiffer- 
ence we  show  at  the  victories  just  won  by  Sir  Douglas 


304  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

Haig.  They  thought  to  see  all  London  beflagged  in  the 
great  soldier's  honour.  Very  certainly  they  had  hoped 
the  "Stars  and  Stripes"  might  be  flown  from  every 
public  building  on  the  day  of  the  President's  Declara- 
tion— but  no! — not  even  in  Stratford-on-Avon,  that 
shrine  of  America's  devoted  Shakespeare-Worship,  was 
any  sign  given  of  the  momentous  event.  Rather  dis- 
creditable to  Stratford,  remembering  that  in  peace  times 
Shakespeare's  Town  depends  very  much  for  its  liveli- 
hood on  its  crowds  of  American  visitors.  But  what  does 
Shakespeare  himself  say  ? 

"Blow,  blow  thou  winter  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 
As  man's  ingratitude !" 

Let  us  hope  that  it  is  not  so  much  ingratitude  as 

inability  to  appreciate  the  situation. 

•  •••••• 

"No  wonder  Americans  find  it  sometimes  difficult  to 
know  or  to  understand  us.  For  months  they  have  heard 
their  President  persistently  abused,  they  have  seen  him 
cruelly  caricatured  and  jeered  at  in  the  lower  sections 
of  the  British  Press,  and  they  have  had  to  possess  their 
souls  in  patience  till  their  day  of  triumph  came.  It 
has  come — the  bitter  tongues  are  now  all  honey — and 
their  generosity  in  forgiving  and  forgetting  wrongs  and 
coming  to  us  in  perfect  amity,  glittering  in  the  panoply 
of  battle,  and  placing  almost  inexhaustible  supplies  at 
our  service,  is  a  truly  great  and  wonderful  thing.  We 
have  done  ourselves  honour  by  the  thanksgiving  in  St. 
Paul's;  and  some  of  us  who  knelt  in  the  dim  shadows 
of  that  vast  shrine  and  heard  the  thunderous  chords  of 
the  American  National  Hymn  surging  in  our  ears, 


"TE  DEUM  LAUDAMUS"  305 

prayed  that  the  two  great  English-speaking  peoples,  now 
joined  in  a  vaster  Crusade  than  was  ever  before  under- 
taken, might  find  their  union  cemented,  not  only  by 
the  blood  shed  for  country,  but  by  all  the  ties  of  mutual 
comprehension  and  sympathy.  To-day,  we  are  as  one 
in  the  resolve,  that 

"God's  just  wrath  shall  be  wreaked  on  a  giant  liar, 
And  noble  thought  be  freer  under  the  sun !" 


THE  WOMEN'S  VOTE 

NATURE  VERSUS  POLITICS 

THOSE  far-sighted  and  indulgent  men  who  supported 
"Votes  for  Women"  should  surely  be  enjoying  to  the 
full  the  result  of  their  pliability  and  humour !  In  the 
"Coupon  Election"  they  expected  six  million  feminine 
votes — for  Coalition,  of  course.  If  we  conjugate  Minis- 
terial messages  as  one  verb,  they  could  all  have  been 
rendered  thus:  "I  expect,  you  expect,  lie  expects" 
women  to  do  their  duty.  But  one  point  seems  rather 
overlooked,  and  that  is,  the  precise  idea  women  have 
of  duty.  When  I  say  "women"  I  mean  women  in  the 
grand  majority — not  a  few  hundreds  or  even  a  few 
thousand  agitators.  And  I  dare  to  suggest  that  these 
"women  in  the  grand  majority,"  do  not  care  about 
their  "votes"  in  the  least — and  that  all  the  roaring  of 
a  megaphone  press  will  never  make  them  care.  Nature 
is,  and  always  will  be,  too  strong  for  them,  and  Nature 
has  not  endowed  them,  except  in  a  few  rare  cases,  with 
a  taste  for  politics.  But  Nature  has  given  them  far 
greater  qualities,  and  has  organised  them  in  a  special 
way — a  way  most  beautiful,  wonderful,  and  nobly  priv- 
ileged ;  and  the  greatest  social  reformer  that  ever  risked 
the  oft-tried  sorry  business  of  "re-constructing"  civilisa- 
tion, can  never  alter  the  work  for  which  Nature  is  alone 
responsible.  I  do  not  believe  that  Women,  speaking  in 
the  plural  of  nationalities,  ever  wanted  the  vote  at  all — 

306 


THE  WOMEN'S  VOTE  307 

but  that  seeing  (and  hearing)  the  wild  clamour  of  some 
of  their  sisters,  who  shrieked  and  smashed  themselves 
into  notoriety,  they  were  attracted  by  the  fun  of  it,  the 
noise  of  it,  the  curious,  rowdy,  non-feminine  spirit  of  it, 
and  followed  the  whooping  and  the  yells  with  the  fasci- 
nated amusement  of  children  running  after  the  "One 
Man  Band"  who  beats  a  drum  with  his  elbows  and 
clashes  cymbals  with  his  feet.  Mr.  Lloyd  George  is  a 
wise  thinker  in  his  generation,  but  his  sagacity  will  be 
at  fault  if  it  should  be  proved  (Heaven  forbid!)  that 
after  all — yes,  after  all  the  screaming  and  smashing  of 
windows,  and  all  the  efforts  made  on  their  behalf — the 
women  as  a  whole  prove  apathetic  and  indifferent  to  this 
wonderful  privilege  they  have  fought  for  and  won ! 

There  is  a  French  story  of  a  certain  spoilt  little  lady 
whose  husband  adored  her,  from  the  glimmer  of  her 
topmost  blonde  curl  to  the  point  of  her  broidered  shoe, 
and  who  expressed  to  him  her  ardent  wish  for  a  diamond 
chain  she  had  seen  in  an  expensive  jeweller's  window. 
Her  husband,  though  rich  and  generous,  apparently 
paid  no  attention  to  her  oft-repeated  request,  till  one 
day  he  suddenly  presented  her  with  the  coveted  orna- 
ment as  a  "surprise  packet"  and  token  of  his  affection. 
But  she  pushed  the  gift  aside  and  gave  way  to  bitter 
tears.  "Why,  oh,  why  did  you  bring  me  such  a  thing  ?" 
she  sobbed.  "I  shall  never  wear  it!  Oh,  why  didn't 
you  buy  me  that  dear  weeny-teeny  dog  I  saw  yesterday ! 
The  weeny  pet!  I  would  have  loved  it  so!  I  would 
have  talked  to  it  about  you  \ — it  would  have  been  such  a 
companion !  Oh,  I  did  want  that  weeny  darling !" 

There  is  a  moral  in  this  story  (despite  the  contempt 
it  must  evoke  among  future  female  M.P.s),  and  "the 
pint,"  as  Captain  Cuttle  or  his  friend  Jack  Bunsby  re- 


808  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

marked,  "lies  in  the  application  on  it."  Whether  Mr. 
Lloyd  George  and  the  supporters  of  the  Women's  Fran- 
chise will  perceive  it  is  problematical — hut  whether 
they  do  or  do  not,  there  is  a  curious  nature-fact  ahout 
Woman  which  is  frequently  missed  or  overlooked  hy 
Man.  It  is  this :  That  when  she  is  given  what  she  wants, 
she  doesn't  want  it!  That  is  to  say — the  gaining  of  her 
objective  concludes  her  active  interest  in  it;  the  thing 
is  possessed,  and  promptly  loses  its  value.  With  the 
swiftness  and  ease  of  a  butterfly  she  deserts  the  blossom 
from  which  she  has  stripped  the  pollen ! 

"Equality  of  the  sexes"  is  one  of  the  advanced  femi- 
nine war-cries,  when  every  one  with  a  grain  of  common 
sense  knows  there  is  and  can  be  no  such  equality. 
Nature's  law  forbids.  Nature  insists  on  contrasts;  the 
small  and  the  great,  the  weak  and  the  strong,  tlje  light 
and  the  dark.  And  women  know  well  enough  that  their 
"calling  and  election"  are  superior  to  those  of  men — 
they  are  the  makers  of  the  race  and  the  ordainers  of  the 
future,  but  their  strength  is  not  on  the  hustings  or  in 
the  polling-booth — it  is  in  the  silence  and  sweetness  of 
"Home."  The  home  is  the  acorn  from  which  springs 
the  oak  of  a  nation.  Women's  own  instincts  teach  them 
that  their  power  is  too  sacred  a  thing  for  common  dis- 
cussion; and  when,  in  their  despite,  such  discussion  is 
let  loose  in  the  press  by  vulgarly  interested  sexualists 
and  sensualists,  their  contempt  is  not  concealed.  They 
feel,  strongly  enough  too,  when  questioned  in  the  right 
spirit,  that  it  is  not  needful  for  them  to  mix  with  the 
undignified  scrambling  of  political  methods;  and  any 
"apathy"  as  to  the  use  of  the  vote,  is  simply  that  they 
have,  or  think  they  have,  something  better  to  do.  Yes, 


THE  WOMEN'S  VOTE  309 

indeed!  They  really  and  truly  think  that  their  home 
affairs,  their  children,  their  daily  duties,  even  their 
clothes,  are  more  in  their  line  than  "Coalition" !  They 
are  for  unity  of  purpose  most  assuredly — all  of  one 
mind  as  to  the  punishment  of  surely  the  most  miserable 
man  on  earth,  the  ex-Kaiser — equally  of  one  mind  con- 
cerning the  barring  out  of  the  Huns  from  further  inter- 
ference of  their  own  folks'  businesses — but  they  think, 
and  rightly  too,  that  so  far  as  putting  the  nation's  house 
in  order  goes,  the  men  should  be  trusted  to  do  it.  There 
was  something  very  funny  in  Mr.  Lloyd  George's  open- 
ing words  to  a  women's  meeting  at  Queen's  Hall — "I 
feel  very  shy  and  solitary !"  Did  he  ?  Surely  this  was 
a  bit  of  "camouflage"  ?  But  putting  all  blandishment 
aside,  it  is  just  a  toss-up  as  to  whether  women's  votes 
will  be  quite  as  influential  as  prophesied.  One  of  the 
surprises  of  the  Coupon  Election  was  Mr.  Lloyd 
George's  "sweep-aside"  of  a  chivalrous  male  candidate 
in  favour  of  Miss  Pankhurst,  who,  so  it  is  understood, 
threatened  the  direst  things  against  him  in  past  "mili- 
tant" days !  Generosity  and  magnanimity  on  the  part 
of  a  Prime  Minister  to  a  Suffragette,  a  male  to  a  female, 
could  no  farther  go! — but  one  wonders  if  the  modern 
"Glendower"  realised  the  effect  his  action  had  on  many 
thousands  of  non-Pankhurst  women  ?  For  sheer  humili- 
ation it  came  second  only  to  the  surrender  of  the  Ger- 
man Fleet !  Whether  it  served  as  good  a  purpose  was 
answered  by  the  result.  "Drive  Nature  out  of  the  door, 
she  comes  flying  back  through  the  window,"  and  one 
of  the  most  curious,  purely  natural  traits  in  woman's 
complex  character,  is  that  she  loves  to  have  her  own 
way  up  to  a  certain  point,  but  when  that  point  is 


310  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

gained  she  has  had  enough,  and  turns  to  man  with  a 
"Here!  You  take  it!"  And  no  woman  has  yet  been 
returned  to  Parliament,  for  which  we  may  all,  if  we 
have  any  common  sense,  thank  God,  and  hope  for  the 
best  that  she  never  will  be ! 


A  "HAPPY   THOUGHTS"  DAY 

(Written  specially  for  the  Grantham  Red  Cross  Outings  Fund) 

HERE  is  an  idea  for  every  one — young  and  old,  rich 
and  poor !  Let  us  institute  a  "Happy  Thoughts"  Day ! 
— one  day  out  of  the  seven  on  which  we  resolve  to 
think  only  "Happy"  thoughts !  Thoughts  of  kindness, 
tenderness,  hope,  and  unselfishness — thoughts  which, 
even  while  we  think  them,  take  fairy  wings  and  fly  from 
ourselves  to  our  neighbours  and  propagate  other  happy 
thoughts,  creating  cheerfulness  and  hope  wherever  they 
go.  It  is  not  easy,  perhaps,  to  think  "happy"  thoughts 
in  dark  days,  hut  no  good  task  can  he  accomplished 
without  difficulty.  A  much  more  simple  and  convenient 
thing  it  is  to  grumble! — to  lay  our  own  faults  on  the 
shoulders  of  others, — to  believe  that  our  own  troubles 
are  the  worst  in  the  world, — to  sneer  at  other  folks'  man- 
ners, looks,  clothes,  and  opinions,  and  to  throw  out  mock- 
ing jests  and  cruel  laughter  at  those  whom  we  affect 
to  despise  yet  secretly  envy; — but  on  our  "Happy 
Thoughts"  day  we  can  have  none  of  these  ugly  and 
ordinary  vulgarities, — we  must  make  a  bid  for  some- 
thing higher  and  more  exquisite  in  grace  and  refine- 
ment. We  must  think  "happily"  of  others  while  we 
hope  they  will  also  think  "happily"  of  us.  We  will 
make  up  our  minds  to  find  our  friends  beautiful,  charm- 
ing, and  lovable;  we  will  cheerfully  admire  them  and 
their  appearance  and  conversation, — we  will  agree 

311 


312  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

that  it  is  a  special  blessing  conferred  on  us  tHat  we 
have  any  friends  at  all, — and  we  will  confess  that 
our  lot  in  life  is  much  better  than  we  have  any  right 
to  expect.  And  we  will  send  our  "happy  thoughts" 
across  the  seas  to  suffering  nations,  conjoined  with  our 
hopeful  prayers — prayers  that  they  may  be  sustained 
and  comforted,  and  by  God's  mercy  be  victorious.  And 
above  all,  we  will  let  our  "Happy  Thoughts  Day"  reflect 
its  cheeriness  in  ourselves, — in  our  looks  and  bearing, 
our  talk  and  expression,  so  that  we  may  be  the  carriers 
of  mental  sunshine  everywhere,  even  during  the  passing 
of  the  darkest  thundercloud.  One  day  out  of  the  seven, 
dear  friends! — take  it  and  consecrate  it  to  "Happy 
Thoughts,"  happy  thoughts  of  earth,  of  heaven,  of  God 
and  man, — and  you  will  find  it  a  day  on  which  you 
unconsciously  grow  stronger,  braver,  pleasanter  to  look 
at,  more  valuable  to  know, — for  happiness  is  a  powerful 
magnet,  and  never  fails  to  draw  others  to  its  vital  line. 
May  a  "Happy  Thoughts  Day"  be  the  true  holiday  of 
every  loving  and  faithful  soul ! 


WHY  DID  I ? 

I  SHOULD  not  presume  to  write  this  answer  to  numerous 
correspondents,  had  it  not  been  for  the  precedent  given 
by  Mr.  Garvin,  the  erudite  editor  of  the  Observer,  who 
recently  allotted  several  columns  of  his  own  paper  to 
the  praise  of  his  own  book.  Wherefore,  gladly  accepting 
this  "lead"  from  one  who  knows  so  much  more  about 
literary  "management"  than  I  do,  I  take  the  oppor- 
tunity of  replying  to  several  letters  demanding  "Why" 
I  wrote  my  last  published  novel,  The  Young  Diana. 
Why?  Well,  because  (like  Mr.  Garvin  on  himself)  I 
think  it  a  good  idea!  Moreover,  I  wanted  to  be  one 
of  the  first  in  the  field  to  suggest  a  discovery  which  is 
approaching  us  in  the  near  future;  which  is,  so  to 
speak,  "glimmering"  ahead  of  our  scientists  like  a 
brilliant  streak  of  sunrise  in  a  summer  sky.  Following 
the  example  of  Mr.  Garvin,  who  urgently  recommends 
the  public  to  read  his  book,  I,  with  equal  urgency 
recommend  the  public  to  read  mine.  I  should  not  have 
dared  to  do  so  unless  Mr.  Garvin  had  shown  me  the 
way,  and  he  is  such  a  noted  authority  in  journalism  that 
I  feel  I  cannot  do  wrong  in  copying  him  as  much  as 
possible.  Therefore,  dear  public ! — good  readers  all ! — 
I  assure  you  that  The  Young  Diana  is  a  remarkable 
book.  It  is,  really !  Mr.  Garvin  says  his  is  a  remarkable 
book,  and  I  feel  that  mine  is  equally  remarkable.  It 
is  full  of  new  ideas,  happily  expressed.  Garvinly 
speaking,  it  is  a  compendium  of  hope  for  mankind,  or 

313 


314  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

rather  womankind,  because  it  shows  how  possibly  the 
youth  and  beauty  of  the  fairer  sex  may  be  retained 
indefinitely,  to  say  nothing  of  the  prolongation  of  life. 
Nobody  wants  to  grow  old,  not  even  Garvin;  as  a 
matter  of  fact  nobody  does  grow  old  nowadays :  witness 
our  beautiful  Queen  Alexandra  and  the  ever  lithe  and 
lissom  "Tiger"  Clemenceau.  To  read  The  Young 
Diana,  you  need  a  little  intelligence,  of  course.  So  you 
do  when  you  read  The  Economic  Foundations  of  Peace 
by  Garvin.  His  book  costs  12s.  net — mine  is  only 
6s.  9d.  His  treats  of  "the  policy  upon  which  the  safety, 
the  prosperity,  the  very  physical  survival  of  humanity 
depend."  Mine  treats  likewise  of  all  these  things, 
vested  in  fair  Woman,  upon  whom  the  physical  existence 
as  well  as  "survival"  of  man  depends.  His,  according 
to  his  friends  on  the  press,  is  "a  great  idea  brilliantly 
presented."  So  is  mine.  It  is,  to  quote  another  friend's 
criticism,  "a  practical  and  passionate  effort  to  save  the 
world  alive."  Oh,  friends!  this  is  exactly  what  my 
book  is! — only  it  is  a  practical  and  passionate  effort  to 
save  Woman  alive ! — beautiful  and  exquisite  Woman ! — 
the  Mother  of  all  Man !  It  is  "filled  with  cogent  argu- 
ment and  luminous  illustration" — I  copy  Garvin  cri- 
tiques because  I  shouldn't  know  how  to  lay  on  the 
butter  so  felicitously  as  the  friends  of  "this  remarkable 
book  by  a  great  journalist" — but  I  have  occasionally 
been  called  "a  great  novelist,"  by  semi-crazed  folk,  of 
course,  and  I  feel  justified  (after  Garvin)  in  calling 
attention  to  my  "remarkable  book."  Garvinly  speaking, 
"it  is  a  timely,  wise  and  nobly-inspired  book" — you  see 
I  haven't  a  newspaper  of  my  own  in  which  to  blow  my 
own  small  trumpet,  so  I  catch  the  silvery  echo  of 
Garvin's  glorious  and  mellow  horn  and  trust  to  my 


WHY  DID  I ?  315 

readers  to  catch  the  sound  and  the  meaning  thereof! 
So  read  The  Young  Dianal — if  she  had  only  been  at 
the  Peace  Conference  all  would  have  been  well !  Diana 
is  a  book  "which  will  leave  the  reader  with  a  better 
hope  of  the  future" — (vide  Observer) — yes,  indeed,  it 
will !  Women  will  radiate  under  its  influence ;  beauty 
will  have  no  fear  of  perishing;  life  will  be  "a  joy  for 
ever,"  and  all  this  for  six  shillings  and  ninepence! 
Think  of  it !  Had  I  a  journal  of  my  own  I  would  have 
out-Garvined  Garvin  in  self-adulation,  but  this  is  only 
a  reply  to  my  numerous  correspondents  who  ask,  "Why 
did  you  write  The  Young  Dianal"  and  my  answer  is 
because,  like  Garvin,  I  seek  to  re-invigorate,  re-form, 
and  re-establish  the  world !  Amen ! 


IN  THE  HUSH  OF  THE  DAWK 

A    THOUGHT 

SILENCE  now  where  so  lately  the  guns  thundered  their 
terrific  message, — silence,  beautiful  and  wonderful, 
where  just  a  while  ago  the  bursting  bombs  and  shrieking 
shells  tore  the  air  on  their  errands  of  doom.  Silence ! — 
peace ! — the  hush  of  the  dawn  before  the  rising  of  the 
sun!  Nothing  in  nature  is  perhaps  more  impressive 
than  this  dumb  spell  which  precedes  approaching  morn- 
ing,— when  every  blade  of  grass,  every  leaf  on  every  tree 
seems  to  wait  attentively  for  the  day.  And  nothing  in 
the  condition  of  human  affairs  is  more  awe-inspiring  to 
the  thinker  and  idealist  than  the  dramatic  pause  of  a 
break  between  battles, — an  armistice,  which  may  or  may 
not  lead  to  lasting  peace.  We  feel,  as  it  were,  the  slow 
passing  of  mist  and  cloud  across  the  sky — we  watch  pale 
glimmerings  of  gold  and  rose  in  the  lightening  east — we 
think  we  see  the  morning  glory  on  the  distant  hills !  For 
those  who  view  the  pageant  of  history  with  living  in- 
terest, and  notably  for  us  who  are  permitted  to  witness 
the  most  marvellous  scene  ever  enacted  in  it,  this  is 
not  a  time  for  wild  whirling  to  and  fro  in  a  round  of 
social  excitement  and  foolish  chattering, — it  is  far  more 
a  time  for  prayer.  Even  as  the  Eastern  worshipper 
prostrates  himself  on  the  earth  and  waits  for  the  rising 
of  the  sun,  so  should  we  both  spiritually  and  intellectu- 
ally prostrate  ourselves  in  humility  before  the  shining 

316 


IN  THE  HUSH  OF  THE  DAWN        317 

hope  of  the  wonderful  Light  which  promises  to  illumine 
the  world's  darkness, — the  light  of  peace  and  unity 
which  shall  make  war  impossible.  For,  though  we  may 
dance  and  sing  and  shout  "Victory !"  at  the  top  of  our 
voices,  that  Light  does  not  as  yet  shine, — that  sun  has 
not  yet  risen!  Men  are  not  yet  of  one  straight  mind. 
A  great  majority  "love  darkness  rather  than  light  be- 
cause their  deeds  are  evil."  Could  we  call  our  nation 
one  of  absolute  unity  in  purpose,  resolved  to  put  aside 
personal  prejudices  and  interests  for  the  good  of  the 
whole  State,  we  should  be  certain  of  a  real  "sunrise" — 
we  should  almost  touch  the  millennium !  But  though  we 
deem  the  cruellest  war  of  all  time  ended,  and  though  the 
Supreme  Power  has  given  to  our  arms  a  victory  so 
sudden  and  miraculous  that  we  are  left,  as  it  were, 
breathless  and  staring,  half  in  doubt  as  to  whether  our 
fortune  be  truly  real,  we  are  not  able,  apparently,  to 
stand  still  in  our  mercifully  tw-invaded  country  and 
look  each  other  in  the  face  without  quarrelling.  Much 
talk  there  is  of  reform  and  betterment,  but  if  each  man 
who  advocates  these  things  begins  the  work  by  arguing 
foolish  details  with  his  political  rival,  there  is  little  hope 
of  any  useful  action  ensuing.  Should  we  not  call  a 
"hush"  on  these  agitating  folk? — a  request  for  pause 
before  they  cast  up  dust  into  the  clear  spaces  of  the 
dawn  ?  Let  us  have  a  pure  and  open  sky !  Let  us  watch 
the  colours  of  hope  and  gladness  deepen  softly  and  surely 
on  the  long-darkened  horizon — and  let  no  murky  mias- 
ma of  discontent  and  disloyalty  mar  the  happiness  of 
the  rising  sun!  A  nobler  People, — a  better,  grander, 
stronger  Empire! — this  is  what  our  king  and  all  our 
wisest  men  appeal  for  in  this  "hush  of  the  dawn." 
Surely  it  is  the  highest  privilege  in  the  world  to  know 


318  MY  "LITTLE  BIT" 

that  we  can  all  help  in  this  work  of  Peace  as  we  have 
helped  in  War, — we  were  all  at  one  in  making  muni- 
tions for  death ; — let  us  all  he  similarly  at  one  in  making 
munitions  for  life.  We  are  given  our  freedom  by  the 
sacrifice  of  thousands  of  brave  men, — we  shall  not  hon- 
our their  memories  now  by  ceaseless  disputations  as  to 
our  own  material  advantages.  We  desire  surely  that 
their  dauntless  and  noble  spirits  shall  know  that  our 
gratitude  for  their  heroism  inspires  us  to  build  up  a 
nobler  civilisation  than  we  have  ever  had  before, — and 
to  this  end  we  pray  God  who  hath  given  us  the  victory, 
— so  far! — in  the  hush  of  the  dawn! 


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